Tides
by AliceInSomewhereland
Summary: "You're like – I don't know – like the tide. You're like the ocean, sometimes you're so near, sometimes you're incredibly far away from me, but you're still all around me, Eponine. And I'm drowning." Enjonine modern AU. Rated M for language/content.
1. Chapter 1

Hello my lovelies! So I've been working on this Enjonine fic for about a week and a half or so. They're my OTP, without a doubt, and literally all my feels have revolved around them recently.

I _am_ on tumblr (thisislavieboheme . tumblr . com) but I didn't want to post this there because I have too many real-life people on there that definitely do not need to be reading my smutty fanfic. So drop me a comment there or on here (or a prompt - as soon as I'm done writing this, I want to get started on a series of Enjonine drabbles, some of which I come up with and some of which are prompts from all you in this tragic OTP).

This started out as a oneshot, but now I'm so far into writing it I don't even know how many chapters it'll end up being. What can I say? I don't write the stories, they use me as a vehicle! Anyway, I hope this first part is long enough. I just chose a random place to stop, because I've been writing with little page breaks the whole time rather than chapters.

It's mostly musical-based, but I took a lot of names and, especially concerning Eponine, familial relationships, from the brick.

Please, please, let me know what you think! I want to post more, but I also want to get a positive response, of course! Also, PLEASE BE MY FRIEND ON TUMBLR! I need someone to fangirl incessantly with...

**Disclaimer:** Very little of this is mine, but instead belongs to the incomparable Victor Hugo, without whom my life would not be the same. I would also like to remind everyone that as much as we love this story/musical and these _fictional_ characters, this rebellion did actually happen, and some students probably quite similar to our favorite barricade boys lost their lives standing up for their ideals. Please, don't ever forget that this is based in reality!

* * *

They had met freshman year. They lived in the same building, all these boys who had since become his backbone, his support, the closest friends he had ever had. She lived on the floor above, along with her roommate Musichetta.

He had seen her coming in and out of the dormitory and even in a few of his classes those first few weeks, but it wasn't until almost a month into their first semester that they met at a party hosted by one of the campus' frats. It was hardly Enjolras' thing, although he did enjoy the occasional drink, and he was only there because his hall mates had dragged him out. They had been debating for weeks joining the various frats, and Rush was the following weekend.

Enjolras had no time for frats. No, he was there to make the money he was spending worth his while, to graduate at the top of the class and get into a top graduate school. The sooner he could start changing the world, the better.

He saw her in the throng of students well before she saw him, but when they did make eye contact – his intense, hers curious – she pushed through the crowds to join him. She was pretty, petite, wearing a halter top that pushed up her chest and bared her midriff, low rise jeans, and flat shoes; she was several inches shorter than him. Her raven hair tumbled over her bare shoulders. He remembered it well.

She recognized him as Marius' roommate. It sickened him, even now, to know how hard she had already fallen for that fool, even after only a few weeks of school. Marius had mentioned her frequently, had grown fond of her, but clearly was uninterested romantically.

They got to talking. He told her he was a philosophy and political science double major, that he wanted to be a lawyer some day and defend people that could not afford a good lawyer themselves. She was undeclared, but liked psychology and art history and French. Maybe she would major in one of those.

She had been just as bored with the party as he was; her roommate Musichetta had brought her along, but was busy flirting with one of his new friends, Joly, in the corner. So they left together. She had wanted to know if Marius was around, but he had gone home for his grandfather's surprise 75th birthday party.

He thought she was pretty, even then. Thin, but healthy, with a face quicker to smile than to frown, and pronounced dimples on her cheeks. Her eyes were the color of rich chocolate flecked with gold, and her lashes were long.

They had kissed in his room, after confessing their lack of experience to one another. Desire and curiosity had gotten to the both of them after that, and he had learned what it was like to have a beautiful woman kiss him someplace other than his lips. He liked it. They stopped short of doing anything else, however, both too afraid to take that leap, so instead they had gone to the dining hall to get some pizza.

They settled into an easy friendship after that, though they never got physical like that again. They did their homework and studied together; she was smart, though much more distractible than he, and she frequently did not apply herself. Except in her art courses.

She was, quite frankly, a force of nature. Back then she was a wild, somewhat bohemian being, one that swept from place to place, always in motion, seeming to dance from place to place rather than walk. Each time she was still, it was a stillness that reflected a lioness about to pounce on her prey. And she had washed over him like a wave at high tide, crashing into him with all her mania and her free spirit.

He learned that she had a bad relationship with her parents, that they had physically and emotionally abused her, that she rarely saw her younger brother, Gavroche, and her sister, Azelma. But she frequently spoke to them on the phone.

She fell hard and fast for Marius, and was crushed when, at the start of the second semester a pretty blonde transferred in from another school. Her name was Cosette, and Marius was instantly in love. They started dating almost immediately; he met her father, a kind, wealthy man, and the young couple became inseparable.

At the end of the year, they all went their separate ways. The boys were all staying together on campus the following year, and were already making their plans. He was most sad to say goodbye to his own personal hurricane. But they talked almost every day over the summer; she was working two jobs and was debating taking on a third to save money, but remained as happy and optimistic as ever.

It came as no surprise to him when she told him she had dropped out. She insisted that she was coming back as soon as she had saved up enough money, but he knew it would never happen.

Still, she lived close to the campus, and visited frequently. The boys would visit her at the restaurant where she waitressed sometimes, though they never over tipped her. The first and only time they had, she was so angry with them all that she wouldn't speak to any of them for a week. For him, it was two. She told him later that she had given the extra money to the food runners, who worked incredibly hard.

She had always made it very clear that she was no one's charity case. No, she was independent, strong, and deeply stubborn, desperate to convince the world that she didn't need any help or anyone.

The following year, the boys broke up into several apartments off campus. Musichetta and Joly got a place with Marius and Cosette. Bahorel was living with his parents to save money, so she moved in with Enjolras, Combeferre, and Grantaire when her lease was up.

And they had been living together ever since, even in the two years after graduation. Not all of them necessarily in the same living arrangements – some of the boys moved in with girlfriends or into nicer apartments, but she was still his roommate. Now they lived in a four-bedroom apartment with Grantaire and Courfeyrac.

His phone rang, breaking him out of his reverie. "Eponine," he said.

"Enj, I'm heading home from work. I'll meet you at the café in twenty. We can get some food and we'll go over your speech for your class.

Enjolras was in his second year of law school, and his most challenging class by far was a speech class. He struggled to come up with his speeches for each assignment and struggled even more when it came time to present them, but he enjoyed it. His friends were always more than willing to meet in the café down the block and listen to him.

Twenty minutes later, he was sitting at a table with two coffees and his note cards laid out in front of him when she swept in.

Eponine's long hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and she was still wearing her shorts and work shirt.

"I know," she said, dropping gratefully into the empty chair, "I smell like food. It's so gross, I'm sorry."

Enjolras shrugged, and passed her a coffee. 20 ounces, Kona blend, milk, and no sugar. He watched her take an experimental sip. She sighed and looked at him appreciatively. An instant later, she was up and buying a pastry for them to share. Together, they went over his speech until they both got hungry, then they ordered dinner. Eponine insisted on paying for her own.

* * *

A few weeks later, Eponine came home from work with Gavroche in tow. His high school was on spring break so he had come to stay for a week. After dropping out of school, she had changed her last name from Thénardier to Jondrette, in order to distance herself from her parents, but she had remained close with the younger boy. She once told her friends that she liked exposing him to such successful older role models. It was one of those rare moments she had been serious; she never joked when it came to Gavroche.

After he went to sleep on the pullout sofa that first night, Eponine knocked on Enjolras' door.

"I quit my job," she said, coming in and sitting on the bed. "I'm tired of dealing with all the shit."

"What are you going to do?" he asked, turning in his desk chair to face her.

"I got a second job – but you're not gonna like it. None of you will."

He said nothing, just waited.

"Hooters," was all she said, readying herself for his lecture.

He regarded her seriously – though he very rarely looked at her any other way. She looked exhausted. She had lost a lot of weight since they had first met, seven years back. Her pretty eyes were always tired, with big, dark bags beneath them. She was no longer the wild child, no longer the lioness. He worried about her frequently, but the fire was still in her, so he truly believed that someday she would be all right.

"Ep," he said quietly, "we can help you if you need it –."

Her eyes grew hard then, her lips twisted into a scowl, and suddenly there she was, the old Eponine, a tornado spinning out of control, a tsunami about to sweep away everything in its path.

"I'm not your bougie fucking charity case," she snapped, storming out of the room and slamming the door behind her. Enjolras sighed. He knew better than to offer Eponine his help. She never wanted it. She was independent, she didn't want pity, she wanted to do everything on her own. Relying on someone, becoming too indebted to them, he knew, made her vulnerable, and she much preferred the safety of her own walls. He often considered how lonely she must be inside her own head.

* * *

A few weeks later, on one of her rare nights off, she was lying on the couch, her head in Enjolras' lap, her feet on Grantaire (already several whiskeys in). Courfeyrac was getting ready to go out on a date, but his three roommates were parked for the night. _The Count of Monte Cristo_ was coming on in a few hours. It was Enjolras' favorite movie.

Courfeyrac came into the room, and spun around. "How do I look?"

"Dashing!" proclaimed Eponine, laughing.

"I think I'm a little gay for you," Grantaire sarcastically confessed, making them all laugh.

Courfeyrac surveyed his friends with a look of mock pity before telling them, "We have got to get you three some dates. Especially you, Enjolras. I haven't seen you with a girl since that time you two made out freshman year." He was pointing between Enjolras and Eponine.

She threw a pillow at him. He caught it. "I don't believe in love," she declared. "Or monogamous relationships."

"How are you still single? I think that's every man's dream," Grantaire said.

Eponine just smiled innocently.

"How do you not believe in love?" asked Enjolras. She looked up at him, a half smile lighting up her face. "You watch, like, 85 romantic comedies a week. You cry in the romantic tragedies. You eat that shit up."

She shrugged, "They're stories. Pretty separate from real life. _Nothing_ that happens in books or movies ever happens to real people. I can still enjoy things without believing in them, right?"

He just grunted.

Courfeyrac sarcastically said, "Good luck with that," as he put on his coat.

In response, his roommates very seriously wished him luck and fun on his date.

A few hours later, Grantaire was lightly snoring on the couch. The movie was on commercial break, and was nearing the end.

Eponine had been nudging their passed out friend with her foot for the better part of twenty minutes before she finally started hitting him with a pillow. He woke up enough for her to yell at him that he should go to bed, and he stumbled away, shutting his door behind him.

"And the there were two," she remarked.

Enjolras nodded, shifting so that one leg was sprawled on the couch and the other propped on the coffee table. He leaned his head against the wall, one arm draped over the back of the couch and the other on the armrest.

Eponine let him get comfortable, then curled up against him, resting her head on his shoulder. He supposed, given his position in the crook of the couch, that it mustn't have been all that comfortable, because she quickly grabbed a pillow, propped it up against the armrest, pulled her blanket back over herself, and laid across his lap.

"You really haven't ever had a girlfriend?"

"No," he said shortly, not really wanting to have this conversation, least of all with her.

"Was I the last girl you kissed? Enj, that was _six years ago_."

"No, I've kissed other girls. Not too many, but at a few parties here and there when I was drunk. Having a girlfriend has never been a big deal to me."

"Are you still…?"

He was glad the darkness hid his flush as he kept silent.

She sat up very suddenly. "Oh my god, you _are!_"

He cleared his throat awkwardly. "It's none of your business, Eponine," he told her sternly.

"Enjolras, don't be embarrassed. It's not a big deal," she replied with a giggle.

"You're laughing at me!" he snapped angrily. "I'll have you know that I most certainly am _not_. I… I had a one night stand with a girl just after my 22nd birthday. I'm not particularly proud of it, so I've never told anyone about it. Sleeping with random strangers is _not_ really my cup of tea."

She regarded him suspiciously for a second before leaning over and planting a peck of a kiss on his cheek. She patted the other cheek with her hand. "I'm just teasing you, Enj," she said. "No need to get yourself in a tiff."

Enjolras turned to look at her; their faces were only a few inches apart. Her teasing smile slowly faded, and he became aware of her small hand burning into his cheek. She was staring at his lips, and he became aware that his own eyes were flickering back and forth between hers and her lips. When the corners of her mouth twitched, bringing the ghost of a smile onto her face, he couldn't take it any more. He swooped in, bringing his hand off the back of the couch and entwining it in the hair at the nape of her neck as he kissed her.

Eponine's lips parted almost immediately, involuntarily. The kiss was feverish, hungry, but short – Enjolras pulled away after only a few moments in surprise.

Eponine was staring at him for a moment before a slight smirk grew. "Well _that_ hasn't happened in a while," she said, somewhat breathlessly. She licked her lips, and Enjolras' only response was to kiss her again, harder.

She slid down, pulling him with her, and he ended up kneeling over her, supporting himself with his hand on the armrest. Her arms were laced around his neck, and his free hand was rubbing the bare skin at her hip. His hand slipped under her shirt, pulling it with him as he dragged his fingers across her stomach. She was pulling up his shirt, when suddenly, they heard the sound of the bolt tumbling back, the door opening, and then the light being flipped on. They jumped apart, Enjolras clear to the other side of the side of the couch, as Eponine pulled at her shirt and ran a hand through her hair.

Luckily, Courfeyrac noticed nothing, because he was stumbling into the room tangled with a pretty brunette. Both of them froze when they saw Eponine and Enjolras on the couch, though neither seemed to notice the swollen lips, heavy breathing, and mussed clothes.

Courfeyrac cleared his throat awkwardly. "This is Clémence," he said. She waved, clearly a bit embarrassed. Enjolras and Eponine each greeted her, avoiding looking at each other.

"So, um, see you tomorrow…." He put a hand on his date's back, and gently led her toward his bedroom. Eponine grinned at the handsome boy across from her, and high-fived him as soon as they heard Courfeyrac's bedroom door close.

Enjolras smiled back, but it was more thoughtful than joking. Eponine settled in on her end of the couch, laying against the armrest and pulling the blanket over her shoulder, apparently over their kiss. She was never one to let situations be awkward.

The movie was in its last minutes, and when it ended she warmly bid him goodnight as though nothing had happened.

And just like that, the tide swept back out to sea, leaving him beached.

He laid his head on the pillow that night, wondering how he was going to get to sleep. Eponine was completely occupying his thoughts.

* * *

Enjolras must have dozed off, because it wasn't until a slight weight shifted him in his bed that he woke up. He sat up quickly, wondering why he hadn't heard his door open and close, and looked over to see Eponine sitting on the edge of his bed, dressed in pajama shorts and a tank top. He froze, unsure of what she wanted.

She stood, and came over to stand in front of him. "I'm glad you're awake," she told him softly. "You sleep like a fucking log." He just stared up at her, not moving even as she ran a hand through his hair and down the side of his face and neck.

Eponine let her hand drop to his shoulder, placing her free hand on his other shoulder, steadying herself as she slowly climbed onto his lap, straddling him. Enjolras felt one arm snake around her waist, as his other hand squeezed her thigh.

She was pressed flush up against him, resting her forehead against his. He found he was breathing hard, and wondered if she could feel his erratic heartbeat against her breast.

Eponine cradled the back of his head in her hands, and gently kissed him. It was slow, at first, but Enjolras felt himself deepening the kiss, speeding things up. He was suddenly aware that she was swiveling her hips, and he wasn't sure whether or not she realized it.

He flipped her over then, and they stared at one another for a moment before he dove back in, kissing every inch of her bare skin he could find. Together, they crawled the length of his bed, until her head was resting on one of the pillows.

They each lost track of the time after that, consumed entirely by the moment, by the heaving chests and heavy breathing, the sweat and wet kisses, the movements of their dance. It must have been days, maybe even years, of this drowning sensation before they finally surfaced for air. They had been forever falling, and all of a sudden, they hit the ground, collapsing into each other wordlessly.

When Enjolras opened his eyes the next morning, he was certain he had dreamed it. It was the product of kissing her so feverishly, that was all. Eponine was not there, and there was nothing indicating she ever had been. Enjolras wasn't sure how he felt about this, whether he was disappointed that she hadn't actually visited him, or relieved that their friendship was not about to become more complicated.

That is, until he stood up. He was completely nude.

* * *

Enjolras peeked into her room on his way to the bathroom. Eponine was sound asleep, looking more peaceful than he had seen her in years, perhaps even since they had met.

Later, when they were quite alone, he broached the subject.

Eponine gave him that signature smile of hers. "I totally believe you. No guy is _that_ good his first time," she told him with a wink. "And the best part," she continued, "is that Courfeyrac and his lady were equally as busy in his room, and Grantaire was passed out drunk, so no one will ever know."

And that was that.

Enjolras agreed with the need to keep what had happened a secret, and was relieved that things did not seem to have changed between them. They had always been close, and she seemed to be fine with adding this new layer of literal, physical closeness to their relationship.

They went about their day as usual, Eponine at one of her jobs, Enjolras at school, and they met all their friends later that night at the café to hear about Courfeyrac's date. He seemed completely oblivious to their affair, neither giving them any telling looks, nor bringing it up to them when the rest of the boys were distracted.

Enjolras gave them one of his speeches. He told them all that he had written it just today, that he had slept really well last night and he supposed inspiration had struck then. He avoided her eyes.

Eponine watched as he spoke. He was a charismatic, naturally talented orator, despite what he thought. She could tell he believed passionately in what he was saying, proclaiming that the poor needed help. It made her want to take up arms by his side and storm the government.

She sipped her coffee instead.

His clear blue eyes were on fire. The sun was shining in the café window, alighting his golden hair and shining on his pale face, giving him the appearance of a moving statue. She eyed his jaw; it was strong, completely lickable (she would have to remember to try that). She loved when a man had a jaw that could seemingly cut glass. He was no longer the scrawny boy she had hooked up with in college; he was bigger, more muscular, but still lean. His body was hard in all the right ways. Taking another sip, she congratulated herself.

At that moment, Marius and Cosette joined the group, attentively listening. Eponine's heart skipped a beat, and she completely forgot Enjolras for a moment. But Marius' arm was around Cosette's shoulders, she was leaning into him, her head on his shoulder, her hand on his chest, planting small kisses on his jaw and neck and lips, looking up at him lovingly.

It made Eponine sick, in the stomach and in the heart. She put down her coffee, no longer interested, and looked away. She was startled to find Enjolras watching her, even as he delivered his speech.

When it was over, and after everyone had settled down, Marius announced that he and Cosette and Joly and Musichetta were hosting a party that Friday. "'Ponine," he called across the table, "If you're on the schedule, get coverage! It will be a great night, I'd hate for you to miss it."

Enjolras watched her flash that lovesick smile at him, but wasn't even sure that the other boy saw it. He was too wrapped up in Cosette.

_She doesn't believe in love my ass_, he thought, somewhat bitterly. It angered him that Marius would flaunt Cosette in front of Eponine. The boy probably wasn't even aware of her feelings, but that made Enjolras even angrier – how could he not know? Everyone knew. He was pretty sure even Cosette knew.

He watched Eponine – first the disappointment, then the total shut down. She adopted that indifferent, unaffected countenance, pulled the veil over her eyes, and retreated within her head, staring off into space.

Sometimes Enjolras wished he could follow her in there.

* * *

Back at the apartment several hours later, Courfeyrac and Grantaire were asleep, and Enjolras found himself at it with Eponine again. She was a little rougher tonight with him, and somewhere in the back of his mind, he found himself wondering if it were because she had been unsure of his own skill the night before, or if she were actually taking her emotions towards Marius out on him.

He was too afraid to ask.

* * *

Eponine did get coverage and attend the party that Friday, but Cosette and Marius were being so gooey that she downed several tequila shots and left within the first hour.

Enjolras ran after her, not very much in a partying mood, and escorted her home.

He had been supporting her the whole way home, but even in her tequila-soaked state walking (in her case, stumbling) down the street, he could smell her hair, her tangy perfume, and he found himself caressing her hip. She was on him as soon as they were in the door to their building. The cage-like elevator doors opened and she backed in, pulling him with her, but shoved him back out and closed the gate before he even realized what was happening. He stood there, shocked, for a moment as she began her ascent, then started bolting up the stairs. She watched him run, biting her lip in anticipation, and was waiting for him for just moments after she arrived on their floor. He pounced on her, breathing hard from his exertion, and they fell into their apartment, not even bothering to go to one of their bedrooms.

Enjolras was positive that he had left Courfeyrac and Grantaire behind at the party, that they wouldn't be back until much later, so he pulled Eponine inside, bolted the door, and pushed her up against the wall. Neither bothered to remove their clothes, and soon, he was supporting her with his hips, pressing her into the wall with his chest, arms anchored on either side of her. Her arms and legs were wrapped tightly around him, like the white foam of the tides holding him under as he drowned.

* * *

The next several weeks progressed in this fashion. When he was stressed about school, she was there, helping him to release. If she had a tough day at work she came to him.

He would give a speech in the café. Afterwards, one would leave, and the other would follow a short while later, only to find their bed occupied when they arrived home. They would go out as a group to the local bars at night, brushing one another's legs or bare skin with warm fingers when it would go unnoticed and entwining legs under tables. Then they would casually leave together, before Courfeyrac or Grantaire headed home. By the time the boys returned, they would either be in their separate rooms, or lounging on the couch watching a movie.

Finals week was particularly tough. At first, he told her that he needed to concentrate all week. But Eponine seemed able to read him too well, because right when he was so stressed out he could no longer think, there she was, kneeling on the floor and helping to distract him for a while.

They had never before had so much sex as they did that week.

After a while, however, Enjolras began to notice that she would come to him, extra zealous, after an encounter with Marius and Cosette. The thought that she was using him to forget her feelings for his former roommate made something ugly twist in his stomach.

But wasn't that what this was? They had briefly discussed it, back towards the beginning. They were friends, and they were fucking. Nothing more, nothing less. The whole idea was to use each other as much as they each wanted.

Enjolras asked her about it one night. Gavroche was visiting, and usually when he was around she stayed away from Enjolras' bedroom, but she had been forced to sit through an entire dinner of staring at Marius and Cosette cuddle in a restaurant booth. She came to him, and they proceeded as quietly as possible, resulting in a night that was slow and steady and satisfying. She would moan into his mouth or neck or shoulder, and he into her mouth or her chest.

Afterwards, they lay together on his bed giggling and bantering back and forth. A moment of comfortable silence fell, and Enjolras took advantage of it.

"Ep, back on the night we started this, you said you didn't believe in love."

She regarded him critically, propping herself up on her elbows. The sheet slipped, exposing her, but she ignored it. "Enjolras, if you're about to confess your love to me, you are never getting laid ag-."

"No, no," he cut her off with a wave of us hand. "I just wanted to ask about Marius."

"What about him?" she asked coolly.

"You're in love with him. It's no secret, except to him. Yet you claim you don't believe in love. So what's your logic?"

"No logic," she said, her voice icy. "I don't believe in love."

He raised his eyebrows, inviting her to explain. She twisted onto her side, facing him, and said, "Look, Enj, I do have feelings for Marius. Strong feelings. But you know what those feelings are? They're _chemicals_. Oxytocin, seratonin – they're the neurotransmitters that fire in our brains and make us feel the way we do. I don't consciously decide to have feelings for him, but when I'm around him it's not real feelings, it's something else telling my brain and my heart to feel a certain way."

"That makes no sense. Chemicals are a _part_ of us. They release all the time, but we don't always react the same way. A lot of chemicals are released in our brains when _we_ fuck. That doesn't mean either one of us is more affected by them."

"Exactly my point, Enjolras. These chemicals decided, not us."

He shook his head. "Chemicals _can't_ decide anything. They don't have brains, they don't have hearts, they aren't alive. It's something else inside you – your heart, maybe, or your pancreas or your spleen or _whatever_ – that instructs those chemicals to be released."

"I disagree," she sniffed.

"Eponine, you're letting your brain tell your heart how to think. And look, I get it. You're afraid of getting hurt. You've had a tough life, and you've built up these walls around yourself for protection, and that's fine. But telling yourself you don't believe in something or feel a certain way when you very clearly do, that's just a defense mechanism. I just wish you'd let me in sometimes," he murmured the last part, more to himself than to her, and reached up involuntarily to brush a raven-colored lock out of her eye. She flinched away.

"You don't know _anything_, Enjolras," she hissed at him furiously, ever conscious of Gavroche on the couch and the others in their bedrooms. "You think you know me so well, you think you have me all figured out. Well you don't know _shit_ about me, so don't tell me how I think, and _certainly_ don't tell me how I feel."

"Eponine –," he implored. She had hastily dressed herself as she spoke, and opened the door, turning to cut him off with an enraged, "Go _fuck_ yourself, Enjolras."

And then she was gone.

* * *

Eponine pointedly ignored him for the next several days. She locked her door at night, avoided him in public and at home, and even locked the bathroom door so he couldn't corner her there (it wouldn't have been the first time).

After a few days of the cold shoulder, the boys' inquiries to the nature of their fight stopped. Whether any of them knew the truth was unclear, though Enjolras was suspicious that Courfeyrac's girlfriend, Clémence, had discovered their tryst and mentioned it to him, for every time he and Eponine were near each other, or left a café or bar together (before their fight, that is), he would give Enjolras a knowing look and a smirk. But he said nothing, and it didn't seem like he had told anyone else.

One evening in the café, Marius and Cosette announced another party. He instructed Enjolras to encourage Eponine to find coverage again. "It's going to be _really_ special this time, man," he said cheerfully.

Eponine found coverage, and went to the party. She looked incredible, and Enjolras was unsure of whether or not she was trying to make him jealous or uneasy, or if she were trying to catch Marius' eye.

"Women," Courfeyrac drawled, suddenly appearing at Enjolras' side. "Can't live with 'em, can't live without 'em." He took a swig of his drink.

"I don't know, Eponine is a pretty good roommate," he said evenly. Then he wanted to kick himself. He had walked right into that one.

Courfeyrac was grinning. Clearing his throat, he said, "Well she's certainly a little friendlier towards _some_ of her roommates than others, but I would never trade her for anyone else.

Enjolras continued to stare off into space. "Look, I –."

But he was cut off by Marius calling for attention. When everyone was quiet and had gathered a little closer, the young man said, "I'm afraid I'm not quite the orator that our friend Enjolras is," everyone except Eponine turned to look at him, grinning, "but I'll do my best.

"Cosette and I are beyond grateful that you all are here tonight. We've been together for nearly seven years now, and I can honestly say I've never felt this way about anyone before." Cosette smiled sweetly and joined Marius, who put his arm around her and continued, "I never thought I'd even be given half a chance to find as much happiness as I have, and everything I am today is because of this woman." Cosette blushed.

"Baby," he said, turning to face her and taking both her hands in his, "I never want to spend a minute away from you, not for the rest of my life. You are my heart, my soul, and I am nothing without you."

He reached into his jacket pocket with his right hand, going down on one knee as he did so. An excited gasp buzzed around the room, followed by people shushing as the young man fished out a black velvet ring box. Cosette, covering her mouth, began to cry as the man kneeling before her opened the box with trembling fingers, revealing a giant, gorgeous diamond ring. "Cosette," he said in a quiet, shaky voice, "Will you be my wife?"

The beautiful blonde laughed through her pretty tears, and nodded her head. Marius started to beam. She gave him her left hand and exclaimed, "Yes! Yes, of course I will marry you!" He slipped the ring on her finger and then kissed her passionately, lifting her off her feet and spinning her around in circles.

Enjolras had realized quickly where this was going, and attentively watched Eponine as the scene unfolded. When Marius got down on one knee, he could see her panicked expression as she looked for a way out of the crowd of people she was trapped in. No one noticed, because they were all so fixated on the proposal. As soon as the group thronged forward to congratulate Marius and Cosette, she found an opening, and sprinted out of the apartment. Enjolras tried to follow, but he was caught in the current of his friends.

When he freed himself, he followed her out without a second thought, but by the time he reached the pavement, she was nowhere to be found. He ran back to the apartment, but she wasn't there, or in the café, or in any of their usual bars.

_She's a shadow, one drop of water in millions_, he reminded himself, _if she doesn't want to be found, she won't be_.

But he suddenly remembered the name of a bar she liked, and, sure enough, he found her there a short while later.

Enjolras approached her carefully, noticing the three empty shot glasses piled next to her, and the fourth full one in front of her. She downed it without a second thought, then swirled the glass at the bartender to indicate that she wanted a refill.

Enjolras took the seat next to her. "Eponine," he said softly, afraid to touch her. She jumped, startled, and whipped her head around to look at him

Her eyes were read and puffy, but her cheeks were dry. _I've never even seen her cry_, he realized, slightly shocked. Indeed, she was never emotional, never sentimental, always either making jokes or retreating deep within her mind. But Enjolras had never expected the sight, even after the fact, to be this pathetic. When he had imagined her crying in the past, she was tough and as precocious as possible. And even though she was no longer crying, her expression was far from strong.

_She's broken_, was his only thought. There was no more fire in her chocolate eyes.

"Fuck off," she ordered, sounding tired and small and defeated.

The bartender placed the shot in front of her reluctantly, recapturing her focus, and eyed Enjolras. He got the message.

"Eponine, I think you've had enough. Let me take you home," he said kindly, gently laying a hand on her elbow.

Eponine wrenched free, slammed her shot back, and ordered another.

"Ma'am," the bartender said, leaning on the bar, "I think you should listen to your boyfriend here and head home."

"He's not my boyfriend," she scoffed. The bartender shrugged, but did not refill the shot. "And I can hold my liquor," she snapped, though Enjolras wasn't sure who that was directed at.

He threw some money on the counter and nodded to the bartender. "Come on, Ep," he said, helping her off the stool. "Let's go home."

Eponine got sick a few blocks away from their apartment, leaning over a storm drain. Enjolras supported her slight frame with one arm and held her hair with the other. When she was done, he got her the rest of the way home.

She slept on the floor of the bathroom that night, and he stayed with her.

* * *

I hope you liked this first bit! Please, give me some reviews or some love or hate or _something_. I hope I've done this incredible pairing justice!


	2. Chapter 2

Hello my lovelies!

You are without a doubt the SWEETEST readers in the world! I got the nicest reviews from you wonderful people, and I'm so glad you like this story! It means a lot to me that you're all so kind.

A few notes: one, sorry for the weirdness in the a/n the other night. I actually wasn't planning on posting this story until I had finished it, but I got _really_ drunk on Saturday night and I guess I decided enough was enough and that I needed to post it. I have since gone back and corrected the grammar and spelling, but yeah. That happened. I did some other pretty judgeworthy things, so judge away! I don't mind. =p

Second: someone asked in the reviews about who these peeps were based on. I tried to mesh their personalities in the brick with who they are in the musical (this mostly applies to Eponine and Enjolras). When I picture them in my head, I have the cast from the 2012 movie. HOWEVER, if Javert ends up popping into this - which as of right now doesn't seem to likely, but I mean, who knows? - then it will be Norm Lewis. If you don't know who that is/haven't seen his Javert LEAVE HERE AND DO IT NOW. He's my forever Javert, the best that ever was and ever will be, and he should have been Javert in the movie and aghhh so many feels. Also, I'm really torn between Colm Wilkinson as JVJ and Hugh Jackman, but since everyone else in my head is from the movie, I'm envisioning him as Hugh (I just can't even with Colm, he's so amazeballs). Sorry for the geekout.

Third: you guys might hate me after this one. Sorry.

Fourth: Please, please send me prompts, on here or on tumblr (thisislavieboheme). I'll credit you and whatever else and do the best I can, it just sounds so fun!

That's all for now, I suppose?

**Disclaimer**: Only the situation and unrecognizables are mine.

* * *

The next morning, Eponine woke up sprawled on the bathroom floor. She wasn't sure how she got there, until she noticed Enjolras leaning against the wall, fast asleep with his head lolled to one side.

The hangover wasn't terrible, she had gotten most of the alcohol out of her system the night before, and it had still been rather early when she had gone to the bar. It seemed as though she had slept the worst of it off.

Then it all came back to her in one awful rush. Her throat began to sting, so she quickly turned the shower on, stripped, and hopped in before the waterworks began again. Showers had always stopped her tears.

"Eponine?' Enjolras' voice floated through the curtain.

"Good morning!" she shouted cheerfully. "Thanks for taking care of me last night. I owe you one."

"Eponine, come _on_." He sounded exasperated.

She knew she had sounded too cheery. But had she really expected to fool him in the first place? No. Not Enjolras. Not after… everything.

So she said nothing. Eventually, she heard him bitterly mutter, "Fine," before taking his leave. She slid to the shower floor then, hugging her knees and crying silently as the hot water splashed on her face.

* * *

Eponine snuck back into her room as quietly as possible, locking the door behind her. She stayed in bed the whole day listening to music on her computer, ignoring her calls and texts. Marius called once, and when his name appeared on the screen it felt as though someone had reached through her skin and veins and ribs and had taken hold of her heart and was squeezing as hard as they could. She willed away the tears.

_No more crying, Eponine_.

A few moments later she heard Enjolras answer his phone in the living room. It was Marius. She listened as he explained that Eponine had not been feeling well, that she was coming down with something, so he had escorted her home. He offered his most heartfelt congratulations and promised to see the newly engaged couple at the café soon.

The boys tried throughout the day to engage her. They knocked with coffee, with food, enticing her to come out or to at least eat. She didn't respond. Even Combeferre, Bossuet, and Feuilly showed up or called to check in on her. All they received for their trouble was radio silence.

Enjolras knocked several times that day, imploring her to open up her door. But Eponine didn't trust herself. Somehow she knew that if she opened the door and saw his concerned face that she would lose it. It wasn't fair for her to dump her emotional turmoil on him, and she had no desire to let him see her like that.

Eventually, things in the apartment quieted down. It grew late and the boys went to bed, but sleep escaped Eponine. So she finally rose, and moments later found herself in front of Enjolras' door. She raised her hand to knock softly, but hesitated.

_What am I doing? There's no need to wake him up, you're _fine. And she ran back into her room.

* * *

On the other side of the door, Enjolras hadn't been able to sleep. He felt quite guilty for pressing her those few days ago about her feelings for Marius. She was just trying to cope, just like anyone who is forced to experience unrequited love does, and this was how she dealt with it. Who was he to question her methods and embarrass her?

_When did everything get so damn complicated?_

That's when he heard the light patter of feet moving in the hall, stopping in front of his door. He rolled over and lifted his head, expecting to see her leaning on the doorframe, bathed in the streetlight that poured in the living room windows, but the door was still closed.

He got up.

She looked a little surprised to see him enter her room. "I heard you come to my door," he said softly, taking a seat on the edge of her bed.

"I thought you were asleep," she replied, gazing up at him through unreadable eyes.

"I couldn't sleep," was all he said. He waited for a moment, before cautiously saying, "How are you?"

Eponine shrugged as though nothing was wrong. "I'm completely fine. I don't know what you're talking about."

"Ep…." But he didn't continue. A lecture wouldn't help her, and he felt too drained to give one anyway. So all he said was, "You don't have to pretend around me."

"I don't pretend. I _am_ fine. I don't have any other choice, so there's no need to be so concerned. I was just hung over all day."

"Eponine," he whispered, his intonation indicating his disbelief.

She just held up a hand, stopping him. "_Please_," she implored. She sounded desperate.

Enjolras stared at her for a long moment before nodding. "Good night, then," he said, patting her leg and getting up to go. But she caught his hand, holding him in place. He turned, lips parted in surprise, to see her moving over in her bed. She patted the empty space next to her.

He climbed in, making himself comfortable, then lifted his arm for her. Eponine shifted over to him, resting her head on his hard chest. Nestled into his embrace, the scent of her hair wafted up to him. He gently kissed the top of her head before he could stop himself.

"I wish you wouldn't keep me at arms length," he informed her quietly. When she didn't reply, he continued, "You're so eager to help others, and you're good at it. You're a good listener and you give great advice. But you never open up to anyone."

Eponine shrugged. "Don't want to burden anyone with my problems. Everyone is so busy, and I can take care of myself."

Enjolras smiled. "I know you can," he said. "But that doesn't mean that no one's there to listen." He put a finger under her chin, forcing her to look at him. Her eyes were sad. It made his heart hurt. "You can tell me anything, Eponine. You don't have to face your demons alone. I won't tell anyone what you say if you don't want me to. Ep," he gently brushed some hair off her face, "I won't think any less of you."

She didn't respond, just wrapped her arm around him and squeezed him tightly. He hugged her back, murmuring, "You don't have to deal with these things on your own," into her hair.

Eponine sighed, looking back up at him, propping her chin on his chest. "I've always been on my own, Enjolras," she told him. "It's not that simple."

"I know," he told her, moving to kiss her. She met him halfway.

* * *

Eponine opened her eyes the next morning, nestled into Enjolras' embrace. For a moment, she felt pure contentment, more than she ever had before in her life.

That sentiment was replaced almost immediately by blinding panic.

They _never_ slept together after they slept together! They got what they needed from one another, then they either chatted or went to their respective bedrooms. That was it.

Then she remembered that they _hadn't_ fucked last night. _We fell asleep _cuddling, she thought with an internal groan.

She gently disentangled herself from him, feeling momentarily naked and – _oh, shit_ – waking him up.

"You sleep like a fucking log," he informed her with a grin, opening one eye to look at her.

"You're one to talk, jackass," she retorted with a smirk, playfully shoving his face. He chuckled.

And they slid into their easy banter. Simple as that.

* * *

Later that morning, Courfeyrac had approached Enjolras, telling him that when he woke up, Enjolras' door was ajar, but he was nowhere to be found. "Don't worry, man, I shut it for you before Grantaire woke up. Nobody's going to find out about you and Eponine, not as long as I have a say in it." He winked.

A little while later, Eponine and Enjolras found themselves perched on the coach, watching _I Love Lucy_ reruns. Eponine was shrouded in one of his oversized t-shirts and a pair of pajama shorts, her knees pulled up to support the sketchbook laying on them. In one hand was a steaming cup of coffee, in the other a pencil.

He watched her.

The sun was shining in the big windows, engulfing her in yellow light. Her cheeks were slightly flushed from the warmth, but she didn't even seem to notice. She was completely engrossed in her drawing, her long lashes tilted down towards the sketch.

Enjolras liked the look of her in one of his shirts. It was sexy, and he looked forward to the moment that she returned it, because it would smell like her.

Then he snapped back to reality. What was _happening_? They were friends – with benefits, sure, but friends nonetheless. _Feelings_ weren't supposed to happen.

She looked up then, smiling that half smile of hers. Her dimples drove him crazy; he was suddenly possessed by the urge to lean over and plant a kiss on one of them.

"Why are you staring at me?" Her voice was soft. He could hear something on the edge of it, something indicating that Eponine was not back to her usual self.

He cleared his throat. "Just wondering what you're drawing."

She put down her mug and pulled herself up, sitting Indian-style, her knee brushing his. She handed him the sketchbook.

As he took in her beautiful work, he thought to himself, _When exactly did I let myself fall… in love with her?_

* * *

Four months later, Enjolras found himself escorting Eponine down the aisle of a beautiful church. He was worried about her.

Cosette and Marius' engagement had been fairly short, but they were determined to get married in the fall. Cosette had begged Eponine to be a bridesmaid, finally wearing her down.

And she looked incredible, dressed in a beautiful red dress, her long hair pulled back into a pretty updo. He wore a crisp black tuxedo, with a red pocket square that matched the bridesmaids' dresses.

Musichetta, the maid of honor, and Courfeyrac, the best man, came next, followed by the bride. She looked beautiful in a dainty white gown, her teary face veiled. Her father escorted her. "You were never mine to keep," Enjolras heard him whisper as he lifted his daughter's veil and kissed her head. He shook Marius' hand, then passed the groom his bride.

Throughout the ceremony, Eponine kept her face emotionless, fixing her eyes on Marius. Enjolras, meanwhile, kept his eyes fixed on her. She was a wonderful actress, he observed, hoping against hope that maybe her reactions were that of a woman moving on rather than a girl hopelessly in love. But she smiled at all the right moments, teared up during their exchange of vows, and cheered with the small group of guests when the newlyweds kissed.

At the reception, she sat next to Enjolras. To his surprise, she seemed all right. She was charming, enthusiastic, and even got up to give a funny and heartwarming toast.

She danced, she drank – a lot – and danced some more, at least once with all the boys, even though they had all brought dates. She even caught the bouquet. When a slow song came on, she usually moved off to the side, observing the newlyweds with guarded eyes. Once, she danced with Gavroche, who Marius had been kind enough to invite, but mostly she kept to herself when the songs weren't upbeat.

Enjolras couldn't help asking her to dance. Eponine cheerfully accepted, clearly a little more than tipsy. She began chattering about the food and the cake and the open bar, but he shushed her, giving her a small smirk as he stared down at her.

She grumbled incoherently at him for a moment, but looked back at him. He wanted desperately to kiss her, and he knew when her lips parted and she stared at his mouth that she wanted his kiss. She tilted her head up, leaning in, but he moved away, looking around pointedly. So instead, she laid her head on his chest. After a moment, he rested his chin on the top of her head, breathing in the scent of her hair.

Courfeyrac caught his eye and winked; Enjolras was so warm on the inside that he couldn't even muster a scowl to direct at his friend.

When the dance ended, she planted a swift kiss on his cheek and bounded off into the crowd.

* * *

He was not surprised when, a few hours later, a much more sober Eponine showed up at the door to his hotel room, dressed in baggy sweatpants and a wife beater. She walked in wordlessly, and he met her in the middle of the room.

He was just beginning to lose himself in her, letting her rise and wash over him and threaten to pull him under, when he heard a strange word come from her mouth. He thought he had imagined it, until he heard her moan, louder this time, "_Marius_..."

Anger unlike anything he could ever remember feeling suddenly built up inside him. So he stopped, much to her surprise, quickly dressing himself and storming out of the room without a sound.

* * *

What was _that_ about? Eponine was so shocked that he had just stopped cold and left. Had she done something? Did it even _matter_? They were fuck buddies. Friends with benefits. And what's more, they were at a wedding. This wasn't a complicated arrangement.

But.

But lately, she had noticed a difference. It had started when Marius and Cosette got engaged. The night she had fallen asleep in Enjolras' arms, more comfortable than she had ever been before. After that, things had changed. Not out loud, of course, but the dynamic between them had shifted, and they were both aware of it.

That night, she had allowed him to see her vulnerable, weak. And he had held her. He didn't think that that was her letting him in, but oh, how wrong he was. She had never revealed herself like that to anyone before.

He was breaking her down. Slowly climbing the walls she had so carefully constructed over the years, hiding so no one could ever find the frightened, broken child cowering at the heart of all those layers.

"_Fuck_!" she cried, lying back on the bed and pressing her palms into her eyes.

Then she launched herself off the bed, dressed as quickly as she could, and ran after him.

* * *

Eponine found him in the hotel bar, sipping a whiskey on the rocks.

She snuck up behind him, snaking her hands around his waist and whispering in his ear with a smirk, "You can't get someone all hot and bothered like that and just peace out. It's rude."

He put down his drink and untangled himself from her embrace, turning away.

She frowned, and jumped around his stool to face him. He just looked over her shoulder, ignoring her, and took a casual sip of his drink.

To his surprise, she snatched the glass from him, chugged it, and slammed it down on the bar.

That _got his attention_, she thought victoriously, taking a deep breath through her nose and willing away the burning sensation the whiskey left in her throat.

"You're insane," he informed her rather coolly.

"But I have your attention now. So maybe you can tell me something: what the _fuck_ is your problem?"

"Not here, Eponine," he said firmly.

"No –."

"_Not here, Eponine_," he repeated, slamming down some money on the bar and walking away.

She ran after him after a moment or two, right out of the hotel, around the side, to the edge of the lake it overlooked. The water sparkled in the moonlight. His hair and his pale skin seemed to have turned silver.

_Marble_.

"Are you going to fucking _talk_ to me now, or are you just going to give me the cold fucking shoulder for the rest of the night?" she demanded, crossing her arms, partially to seem tough and partially to keep from shivering.

Enjolras glared at the fiery woman for a moment. He noticed that she was shivering – it was a chilly night here in the country, the cold wind hinting to the winter weather that would soon be following – and sighed, slipping off his jacket and closing the space between them to wrap it around her shoulders.

Then he retreated, crossing his arms and scowling at her again.

"Are you gonna tell me what your issue is, Enjolras, or am I gonna have to fucking beat it out of you?

He gave one short, harsh laugh and bitterly said, "Do you really not know what you did? It was only a half hour ago, Eponine."

"I can't read your fucking mind, so if you have a problem with me, you better tell me now."

"You are the most _infuriating_ woman I have ever met," he told her angrily.

"So that's why you're mad?"

"No, Eponine. I'm mad because we've been sleeping together for months. We've been dancing this dance, and you… you don't _care_. You're like – I don't know – like the fucking tide. You're like the ocean, sometimes you're so near, sometimes you're incredibly far away from me, but you're still all _around _me, Eponine. And I'm drowning." He was aware of how desperate his voice had become. He didn't even feel angry anymore. Just empty.

She was just staring at him, wide-eyed, open-mouthed, completely taken aback.

"And you don't even notice," he continued. "Because you're so fucking in _love_ with Marius. And it doesn't matter what I do – no, not even a little. You pine after him, you dream about him, you let him hurt you when he doesn't even realize what he's doing. And then here I am, giving you the attention and the… the _physicality _that you aren't getting from Marius, giving you everything you deserve, and you don't even have the decency to remember that it's not his cock inside you. I can't listen to you moaning _his_ name in _my_ ear when all I want is for you to forget and, for once, see what's right in front of you. But you won't. So keep being miserable. You clearly thrive off your own unhappiness – your unrequited love, your awful, degrading jobs – so good. Keep on keepin' on. Don't do anything that might possibly improve your life. Don't do something that might make you _happy_ for once."

"I – I don't understand," she whispered. She looked unsure, confused, and even a little hurt.

"I'm just done, Eponine, I'm done."

A wave of guilt washed over him. He was being cruel. There was a lot more to it than that, he knew. But why couldn't she _see?_ She was the embodiment of all that he was working toward. She was one of the miserable, the poor, the downtrodden. She always had been. He simultaneously admired and pitied how she handled herself – forever working, so strong all the time, stubborn, determined, but ultimately so sad. He was drowning in that part of her just as much as the rest of her. When he figured out what he wanted to do with his life, it was partially because of her. He wanted to help her, to change her life. She was the inspiration for his speeches, she was the one whose circumstances he so desperately wanted to change – she was _everything_ _he_ _was_ _fighting for_. He just wished she could see it, too.

"Enjolras," she quietly said, "I've never asked you for anything."

He gave another derisive laugh. "Well it doesn't work that way, babe." He hated himself. Who was he to be so condescending? But he couldn't stop. "For fuck's sake, Ep, you're like the damn queen of unrequited love. Are you really so blind? The man is married, now. He's never noticed you, never seen anyone other than Cosette, never –."

"That's _enough_, Enjolras," she snapped, cutting him off and shaking her head in disbelief. "This was never supposed to be so hard. It was supposed to be _fun_. If you're pissed because you think I was using you to get over him, don't be. You know what you're doing in bed, Enj, so when I came to you it was because I wanted _you_. But you know how I feel about all of this… love nonsense. Sure, maybe I do have feelings for Marius, but look what a mess it's gotten me into! Why would I ever want to go through this again with someone else?"

She was angry now. From zero to sixty, just like that, waving her hands around, her hair flying wildly in the breeze. The lioness, the angry and uncontrollable sea. He liked her like this, when she was so wild. He wished he could kiss her.

"It's different," he told her, stepping closer. "It's different when you have someone who feels the same way. Marius will _never_ –."

"You think I don't fucking _know_ that, Enjolras? Of course I do! I've always known it, deep down. And still, part of me hoped. Until they got engaged. Then I knew it was over. And I've been trying to move on. And it's working. I'm not there yet, but I know that someday soon I'll be able to look at them as indifferently as any of the rest of you. But can't you understand how _hard_ today was for me? It was like hitting a goddamn wall, watching him marry her, listening to his vows. It's not easy, Enjolras."

"Oh, I know that. But saying his name while another guy fucks you – shit, Ep, can't you understand how that feels?"

"I'm sorry, Enjolras. Is that what you want to hear? I'll scream your name from now on. Will that fix things?" Her sarcasm dug into him.

He laughed coldly. "We're way past that, Ep. No, I'm done with this. All of it. I'll move out when the lease is up, if that's what it takes, and when you're over him, _truly_ over him, well, then maybe we can be friends again." _And maybe by then I'll be over you_, he added silently.

He turned away, and slowly began walking toward the hotel.

Eponine hesitated for a moment, unsure of whether to stop him or to let him go. But seeing him walking away from her so determinedly forced her hand; she ran after him, grabbing his arm and turning him around. _What are you doing?_ she asked herself. _If he wants to leave, let him. If he's done, he's done. Did you really expect this to last forever?_

"Enjolras, I really am trying," she was shocked by how frail and desperate her voice sounded. Seeing him walk away – well, her throat was stinging, like it had when she finished his whiskey. "I am. I know you don't believe me, but I know that he doesn't and hasn't ever had feelings for me. And it hurts, of course, but it's helping me begin to move on. Today was hard, but I'm starting to realize that he was never mine to lose." She watched her hand cup his cheek, her thumb caressing his cheekbone. He looked over her head impatiently and a muscle in his cheek twitched. "But you are," she murmured, realization dawning, and his eyes snapped back down to stare at hers intensely. "You _are_ mine to lose, aren't you?"

His lips parted in surprise, and his hard gaze even softened a bit. She wished he would kiss her. But he said nothing, did nothing.

She was gripping his arms, willing him to stay there with her, unable to let go.

"That night that you and I fell asleep together, when Marius and Cosette got engaged, I know you think I was still shutting you out. And I was, sure. But no one has ever seen me that vulnerable before, Enj. No one's ever gotten that far, truly. Maybe you didn't get all the emotions out of me that you wanted, but you still got me through it. You saw more of me that night than you, or anyone else, ever has before. I know you think you don't matter to me, but you do. Enj, you're my _best friend_. And you're the best sex I've ever had, and I've gotten to have a _lot_ of it with you – so thanks for that," she finished lamely, suddenly embarrassed.

The ghost of a smile twitched at the corners of his mouth.

"Please don't leave me, Enj," she softly implored. "I don't think… I don't want to lose."

"Lose what?" he finally asked. His voice was hoarse.

"You know wh–."

"_Eponine_."

She sighed exasperatedly. "Are you really gonna make me say it?"

Enjolras just stared at her, his ocean-blue eyes boring into her chocolate ones. His heart was pounding in his chest.

She took a deep breath and looked away: at the lake, at the ground, at the moon. Anywhere but at him.

"Everything," she whispered. "Our friendship. The fun we have. The sex. I don't want to lose you, Enjolras. And I can't get over Marius without you."

He didn't immediately reply, just reached down and took one of her hands into one of his own. With the other he gently tucked some hair behind her ear. "I know you can't," he told her with a small smirk. Yet it hurt him that she hadn't said what he so desperately wanted hear. It hurt him even more that she had brought up Marius again.

"So…. Are you ready to go back upstairs now?" she inquired with a smile.

_She has no idea how I feel about her_, he realized, his insides suddenly turning very cold. She honestly thought this was only about their friendship. She, the "queen of unrequited love," as he had phrased it, couldn't recognize that same love, even when it was literally staring her in the face.

So he planted a gentle kiss on her forehead. She held his wrist and leaned into him, thinking that he was forgiving her. Then he looked into her eyes very seriously and quietly but firmly told her, "No," dropping his hands from her head.

She looked taken aback. He wanted to tell her he was kidding, to pick her up and kiss her and take her upstairs and help her get over Marius, but he couldn't. He was done being her tool.

She was still holding his wrist, and when he backed away, she held on, but did not fight it when he slipped out of her grasp. He turned away and started walking back towards the hotel.

"Enjolras?" she squeaked. He didn't stop. He thought she would remain silent, maybe even appear at his side, but she didn't. Instead, she called after him in a strangled voice, "Are you still moving out?"

"That's up to you," he replied without stopping or turning around.

* * *

A toute de suite, mes jolies!


	3. Chapter 3

Ok ok. So I wasn't going to post the third chapter so soon, especially considering that a) I haven't had time to write too much more (my senior thesis was due today! helloooo free time) and b) I have writer's block. BUT I'm going away for a few days and will be internet-less until Saturday. I didn't want to leave you guys without anything for so long because you all are FANTASTIC and I love each and every one of you for your kind reviews and your awesomeness and I just can't ok.

Anyway. This chapter is REALLY long. Sorry for that. And I feel like it's not that interesting, but it was necessary. I wanted to make it shorter, but the way that I wrote it (aka not planning on making this a chaptered story) there wasn't a good place to break it up because it would've gotten in the way of the stuff that happens next.

Also, sorry in advance about the stuff that happens next. You guys really are going to hate me. It's more exciting than this, but you'll probably chase me with pitchforks and flaming torches for what I did...

Also, sorry for giving you that tidbit. I'm the worst.

Anyway, thanks for the love, you guys rock, please be patient with me! I promise someday things won't be depressing in this story.

I'm just... I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Please don't hate me.

Funny thing though, I'm currently at exactly 24,601 words total in this story. I may or may not have shouted at my computer "and I'm Javert..." Whomp whomp.

**Disclaimer: **creys.

* * *

The ride home the next day was awkward, to say the least. The friends had gone in together and rented a few SUVs to get out to the lake, rather than finding individual transportation. Enjolras and Eponine had happily sat together on the way, but had ended up in the same car on the way home (although Enjolras had tried to sneak into another car).

Combeferre was driving, and Enjolras was in the front seat. Eponine shared the middle row with Courfeyrac and Clémence, and Grantaire, his date Lucie, Combeferre's date Camille, and Gavroche were in the back.

Eponine was trying as hard as she could to stare out the window, but couldn't help glancing at Enjolras now and again. She could only see his profile, but to her he seemed tired.

Combeferre was a pretty good driver, which was apparently more than could be said for Jehan, who was driving one of the other cars. Feuilly had complained that Jehan wouldn't allow anyone to talk too loudly and wouldn't even let them turn the radio on. Combeferre, however, was perfectly content to let a classic rock station blast, and even Eponine and Enjolras couldn't resist singing along dramatically when "Bohemian Rhapsody" came on. It was especially nice because, shockingly, they all had wonderful voices, and even nailed all the harmonies.

Later, Combeferre was equally calm as Grantaire entertained everyone by teaching Gavroche a rather boisterous song. When Courfeyrac questioned whether or not she approved of her little brother learning something so crude from a guy who, 24 hours before, had been drunker than ever before, she had informed him that she was _not_ Gavroche's mother, and then, as if to prove her point, taught him the next verse. Even Enjolras laughed at that.

But other than those two incidents, neither Eponine nor Enjolras spoke very much. She was aware of Courfeyrac and Clémence watching her from time to time, but she didn't care. She just wanted to go home.

* * *

Combeferre dropped them at their building before heading back to the rental center. Joly was the only one of their entire friend group that actually owned a car, so he was meeting Combeferre and Jehan to give them rides back home. That way they wouldn't need to take public transportation with their bags and tuxedos.

Eponine noticed that Enjolras was avoiding her like the plague. She didn't want to be stuck in the elevator with Courfeyrac and Clémence, and he clearly didn't want to be any closer to her than he had to be, so she just took the stairs. It made her think of the time she had banished him from the elevator, forcing him to sprint up several flights. She had done it just to fool with him, but she had liked how out of breath and sweaty he was when he found her, how he had attacked her outside their apartment door.

Later in the day, after she had unpacked and hung up her bridesmaid's dress, Eponine opened her door to find all of their friends and most of their dates to the wedding in the apartment. She had been listening to music in her room and hadn't noticed.

When she emerged, several people turned around to look at her, including Enjolras. She avoided his eyes, and joined Jehan and Bahorel on the couch. Someone had brought a ton a food; there were trays of hoagies, plates of veggies and fruits, bowls of chips and pretzels and dips, and all kinds of cookies and brownies for dessert. And there was a lot of alcohol.

Feuilly passed her a bottle of Shock Top. "Did you have fun at the wedding last night?" he asked her. The boys looked at her with unsure expressions.

"I always do," she replied, smiling cheerily and taking a swig of beer.

"You were the life of the party, Ep," Bahorel told her, grinning. "I've never seen someone dance so much before."

She laughed in response. "Does it _really_ surprise you? You know I love a good party. Like this one – what's the deal?"

He shrugged. "Just continuing the festivities. Sorry for doing it at your place, we just all kind of ended up here."

"Oh please, Bahorel, impromptu parties are the best! Plus we'll have a ton of great food here for a few days. I'm not about to complain. Speaking of which, I'm going to go get a plate!"

She had to get away from Enjolras, leaning against the wall holding a cup, watching her through dark eyes as he talked with Jehan and his girlfriend.

Eponine was filling up her plate – starting, of course, with a ham and cheese hoagie, her favorite – when Clémence suddenly appeared at her elbow. Her pretty light brown hair was in a casual braid over her shoulder, and she glanced at Eponine with a knowing look on her face.

Clearing her throat, Clémence asked, "So, Eponine, is everything ok?" Eponine opened her mouth to respond, but the other girl grabbed her arm (making her drop a spoonful of potato salad), and said, "And don't try to lie. I know something happened between you and… you _two_."

Eponine didn't respond immediately. Was Clémence going to say something to Courfeyrac? Would he tell Enjolras? Why did she even care? It wasn't any of her business.

Clémence cut off Eponine's suspicious thoughts before they could cycle any more. "Eponine, I'm your _friend_. I'm not going to tell him. This is just girl talk!" she said with a giggle.

Eponine glanced around, ensuring that Enjolras wasn't there and that no one was eavesdropping. She picked up her plate, indicating that Clémence should follow her. They retreated to Eponine's bedroom; she closed the door behind them and put the plate down on the table next to her door. Clémence took a seat on the bed and patted the space next to her. For a moment, Eponine stared at the bed, remembering what she had done with – and _to_ – Enjolras there. Then she sighed, pulling her hair into a ponytail and taking a seat.

"We had a fight last night. It didn't end well. He – he's threatening to move out."

"I'm assuming that you got _this_ before the fight then?" she asked with a smirk, pointing at Eponine's neck.

Eponine sprung from the bed, running to the mirror above her dresser. There, on the left side of her neck, was a fairly large love bite. "Ugh – this is a _massive_ fucking hickey," she groaned, pulling some cover-up from her makeup back and smearing it on. It didn't help very much.

"He was watching you as we came in here," Clémence remarked as Eponine rubbed at her neck. "What did you fight about?"

Eponine sighed. "I don't know. A lot of stuff. Me, mostly. And Marius." She put her makeup bag away and walked back over to Clémence. "Apparently last night when we were fucking, I said Marius' name."

Clémence raised her eyebrows. "Shit, Eponine. No wonder he's pissed."

Eponine sighed exasperatedly. "I know, I know. It was bad. I didn't even realize it at the time. I had no idea until we were out by the lake shouting at each other and he told me. He said that I'm too guarded, that I've hidden behind too many walls in order to keep everyone at arm's length, and… I mean I don't even remember what all he said to me, or what I said to him." It wasn't entirely true, she remembered specific things – mostly her begging Enjolras not to leave – but Clémence didn't need to hear all about that. "Anyway, then he said he couldn't do it anymore, and that he was going to move out and when I'm over Marius then maybe we can be friends again. I just don't understand it. What's his deal?"

Clémence was trying to hide a smile. "Eponine, you'll have to ask him. It's not for me to say. Do you want him to move out?" When Eponine shook her head, Clémence asked, "Did you tell him?"

"Of course I did. I told him he's my best friend and that the sex is great and that I… that I don't want to lose him."

"Do you have feelings for him?"

"For Enjolras? No! No. No, no, no, no. No, we're friends. That's all." She felt the slight flush in her cheeks and hoped that Clémence couldn't see it too. Unfortunately, the other girl was smirking at her knowingly, so Eponine hurriedly said, "I get why he was pissed, I shouldn't have said another man's name while sleeping with him. I didn't mean it, of course, but I can understand why he was upset. But he was just _so_ mad, Clémence. And then threatening to move out because I'm still not completely over Marius? It just makes no sense."

"Oh Eponine, I don't know what to tell you. It's messy though. I could tell in the car today that something was really wrong. My best advice to you is to get over Marius. What do you even see in him, anyway? I mean I know you've been in love with him for quite some time, but what is it about him that makes him so special?"

"I don't know…. He's always been so sweet to me. We were friends as soon as we met. He's never treated me like I'm – like I'm any less than him or anyone else because I have a fucked up family. We get along so well, and he's just so kind. And cute. Oh, and I love his hair."

"But he doesn't like you back. He never has."

"I know, and if I _ever_ had any doubts or hopes about that, they were certainly dashed when he married Cosette last night," she couldn't help the slightly bitter tone in her voice.

"So those are your only reasons that you like him?

"Yes. Well, no. I don't know, it's everything about him. His personality, the way he treats me –."

"From what Courfeyrac has told me, he doesn't treat you special at all. He says Marius treats you like one of the guys."

Eponine just looked at her, unsure of what to say.

"Well, how does Enjolras treat you?"

"Enjolras? Well – like a friend…." Eponine was finding this fairly new concept of "girl talk," to be quite confusing.

"Ok – here's an easier question. Why do you like Enjolras?"

"Why do I like him?"

"Yeah. I mean you guys are friends, and you're fucking. People just don't _do_ that, you know? Not without a good reason. So why do you like him as a friend? Why did you start sleeping with him?"

"What do you mean?"

"What started it?"

"We kissed," she said tentatively. "Well – we kissed once in college, and I went down on him, but then nothing until all of _this_ started. And we just kissed, it was kind of an accident, and then it just started _happening_." As difficult as this was for her to disclose, Eponine was actually happy that she was able to talk about it all with someone. She had kept it to herself since it had all began.

"Great, ok. We're working backwards now. Why do you like him? You know, as a person?" Clémence inquired.

"I mean he's my best friend. He always has been. We've been close ever since we met. We would study together, before I dropped out. And he's good to me, I suppose. He's hard on me, though. He holds me to really high standards. I could tell he was angry when I told him I had gotten a job at Hooters. But he's sweet to me, and he's funny when he wants to be, and…." She shrugged away the end of the sentence.

"And?" Clémence asked, raising her eyebrows. When Eponine didn't respond, she sighed, and said, "Ok. Now, do you find him attractive?"

"Well… of course I do. I wouldn't be fucking him if I didn't."

Clémence just gave her a look. Eponine sighed. "I mean…. He _is_ very handsome," she grudgingly admitted. "I've always thought so, with that jaw. And I like his dimples, you know? And I know he's kind of skinny, but he _actually_ is, like, scary built. Like, he's lean, but he's all muscle. He's like a marble statue. Just so nice to look at. And, I suppose, I like his arms. He gives great hugs…." She stopped when she caught sight of Clémence's expression. "What?" she asked.

"You like him," Clémence informed her, quite matter-of-factly, but with a large smile.

"What? That's absurd, no I don't. He's my friend, that's all," Eponine heard herself insist.

"Oh, please, Ep. You had trouble coming up with 5 reasons why you like Marius. But when I prodded you about Enjolras, you gave me about 50. Do the math, sweetie."

"You're crazy," Eponine scoffed.

The other girl smiled. "Did you ever think that maybe you got too comfortable with being in love with Marius? That keeping up your feelings for him just added another dimension to those walls Enjolras was talking about?"

Eponine just stared at her.

"Think about it, Eponine. You're used to doing things on your own, you're used to being alone, and you've gotten used to this whole concept of unrequited love. Have you ever thought that maybe you're using Marius as a shield? That maybe you're hiding behind your love for him so you don't have to open up to someone and be a little vulnerable for once? Are you still in love with him because you're afraid?"

Clémence's phone suddenly chimed, startling them both. She checked the message and, standing, told a very shell-shocked Eponine, "Courfeyrac is wondering where I am." She put a hand on Eponine's shoulder, and squeezed comfortingly. "Just think about what I said, Eponine. Be _brave_. From what I've heard, you're not afraid of anything, so don't let yourself run from your feelings."

She picked up her plate then and opened the door to leave.

"I'm afraid of spiders," came Eponine's slightly hysterical response.

Clémence just laughed and swept away.

Eponine took a few minutes to compose herself and followed her new confidante out of the room.

She wasn't back into the party for five minutes before Grantaire caught sight of her. "_Damn_, Eponine," he exclaimed loudly, "You and Clémence disappear into your room for twenty minutes and you come out _that_." He was pointing at her giant hickey. "What exactly were you two doing in there?"

Shit, she had forgotten to take her ponytail out. Oh well, too late now. Everyone could see Enjolras' handiwork. She wished she could see his expression, wished that she could share a secret glance with him. But if she did, she would give it all away.

Several of their friends were watching with interest, including a grinning Courfeyrac whose arm was around a somewhat concerned, but still smiley, Clémence. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Enjolras, who just scowled.

Eponine just gave Grantaire a big smile and joked, "Wouldn't _you_ like to know, pervert?" Her audience broke into laughter as she took a casual sip of her beer, then she patted his cheek and planted on it a small kiss before she swept out of the room.

* * *

That night, Eponine lay in her bed mulling over Clémence's words. She had implied – or more like insisted – that Eponine had feelings for Enjolras. Most shocking was the suggestion that she was afraid to fall in love and was hiding behind stale feelings for Marius.

Was it possible that over the months, perhaps even the years, she had developed feelings for Enjolras, but had been unable to recognize them thanks to her obsession with Marius?

Clémence certainly seemed to think so. "Be brave," she had said. Was Eponine as afraid as her friend seemed to think of letting people in?

Who was she kidding? She absolutely was. Enjolras had been right when he had told her that she keeps everyone at arm's length. She shut everyone out. And she supposed that it _was_ because she was afraid of getting too close to someone. Her entire childhood had been a psychoanalyst's dream, to put it one way, so it made sense that she wouldn't want to be too vulnerable. Being vulnerable at home, especially after her parents were foreclosed upon… well, it had not been an easy time. She had been forced to grow up quickly, a fact that had always set her apart from these well-off bourgeois boys. She knew how to fight, and she knew how to work, and she did each well. But opening up to someone, even someone as good as Enjolras….

And where did he fit into all of this? When Eponine mentioned that she couldn't understand where Enjolras' anger was coming from, Clémence had told her that it wasn't for her to say, that she would need to ask Enjolras.

What the hell did that mean?

Was it possible that Clémence was implying that there was more on Enjolras' side than Eponine realized? Why else would she have gone to such trouble to convince her that her feelings for Marius were a farce, and that Enjolras was the real deal? Maybe he wasn't mad just because of some Freudian name-slip. Could he actually be so angry because he was in love with her?

Whatever. She needed to clear her head.

Moments later, she found herself in front of Enjolras' door. _Shit, force of habit_, she thought to herself, remembering that she couldn't just walk in anymore. Yet she found herself trying the doorknob anyway.

Locked.

* * *

He heard her outside of his door. He heard her each time she came, for the next several weeks. He desperately wanted to let her in, to take her in his arms, to taste her, to feel her touch burning him and her skin sliding against his.

He missed her.

"When did this happen?" she had asked. _I don't know, Eponine_, he confessed to her silently.

But that was a lie.

Eponine was the only girl Enjolras had ever had time for. People in college often thought they were dating, even after she dropped out, and he could never be bothered to refute them. In fact, it had been easier for him; it had kept the girls from becoming a distraction to him. Not that he had ever really noticed them.

He blamed it on Eponine. She thought _she_ was fucked up? His life certainly wasn't a walk in the park, though he knew he had it easier, especially growing up, than she did. But he was so – what had Combeferre once said? – _terrifying_ sometimes. Whatever that meant.

Perhaps it referred to his intense determination, his competitiveness, his motivation to achieve his goals. When he set his mind to something, anything less than complete success was just not good enough. Maybe that's what was terrifying.

He had never had time for girls. Yet there was Eponine, his best friend, the only girl with whom he had ever been close. Why was she so different from the other girls that had simply blended into the scenery around him?

And then he understood. _She fell through the cracks_. The cracks in his mind – the frustrations, the doubts, the sometimes-crippling sadness. The spaces between the Enjolras his friends knew and Enjolras that was a weak, self-conscious boy.

Eponine had wiggled her way in that first night, all those years ago. She had distracted him, even for just a moment, but it was enough. She fell through those cracks; he had never managed, never even really tried, to get her out.

And he had loved her ever since.

Being in love with her certainly wasn't a new thing, of course, but he had always thought that it had started when they began sleeping together.

The realization that he had loved her since he _met_ her disturbed Enjolras enough that he had to get out of bed.

He walked out of his room, not going anywhere in particular, and found himself at the coffee table.

Eponine's books were piled there. The girl loved to read. He had always admired that, though he supposed it made sense.

She read to escape. She loved fantastical worlds, science fiction, dystopian societies, struggling characters coming out on top. He knew she connected with them, that it was therapeutic to see them win, because perhaps it meant she could win too.

She had been through so much. Emotionally and physically abused as a child by her parents and, he suspected, by her father's gang, dirt poor, and forced to grow up too quickly – that had been Eponine's life. They had been rich when she was young, perhaps even before Gavroche was born, and she clung to those fleeting memories as though her life depended on it.

She still acted as though she had money, and she was self-sufficient these days, but money was tight. Yet she often made comments that would make one think she had all the money in the world, though to a practiced ear like Enjolras' there was always a slightly dry delivery, as though she were both mocking and envying the wealthy.

It made him smile – her sense of humor was acute, dry, and fast. She was sarcastic, she was witty, and she found everything funny. It was incredible to him that after everything she had been through she could be so happy. He knew it was hard, and he knew she had as many down moments as up ones, but she was positive and optimistic, almost to a fault. He, on the other hand, was probably three times as jaded as she, and his life had been charmed by comparison.

Enjolras sighed, picking up her worn copy of _A Tale of Two Cities_. The girl loved her Dickens, for whatever reason. Something about the satire, the dry humor hidden deep within the story, agreed with her.

Enjolras dropped the book back on the table.

He went to the kitchen and almost jumped out of his skin when he saw Eponine sitting at the kitchen table, her back to him, reading a book in the light of a dim kitchen lamp.

Her thick, dark hair spilled over her shoulders. She was wearing a large t-shirt, a red one, with the writing from a bar he frequented on the back – _his_ t-shirt, then – and pajama shorts. One leg was curled under her, and the other was bent so she could rest her head on her knee as she read. She looked peaceful, still, for once. Calm waves gently lapping at the shore, rolling back and forth lazily.

Enjolras froze, not sure whether to stay and just _watch_ her for a while, alert her to his presence, or retreat to his room and lock himself away.

He had just decided on the latter when the floor squeaked, startling her. He froze as she dropped her book and whirled in her chair.

They stared at each other.

Eponine's lips were parted in surprise, but the fright in her eyes had quickly changed to something else – relief perhaps? – though in the dark it was hard to tell.

The lamp silhouetted her head, but there was enough moonlight for him to see the soft expression on her face.

She gave him a tentative, small smile and whispered, sounding somewhat experimental, "Hi, Enjolras."

He regarded her for a long moment, allowing the silence to stretch between them. She did not take her eyes away from his.

"Eponine," he finally conceded, though he could hear the strain in his voice.

They stared at each other.

"Um… How are your classes going this semester?" she asked, sounding uncertain of herself. Or perhaps she was uncertain of him.

"They're fine," he replied tightly. She was looking at him expectantly, but he said nothing else.

"Does it feel good to be in your last year?"

Marius and Cosette were married during the first weekend of his semester, back in September. With all the preparations he and Eponine had been involved him, they had never discussed his course load. Then they had the fight, and hadn't spoken since.

It was October.

"It's a lot of work, but yes. I'm beginning to organize myself for the Bar exam, but I'm going to take a review course after I graduate to prepare."

"I'm sure you'll pass with flying colors. Not everyone is at the top of the class in an elite law school," she gave him an encouraging smile. He just stared at her.

An awkward silence fell between them, until Eponine asked quietly him, "Will you sit?" She gestured to the chair next to her, then added, "I have snacks," holding up a box of Double Stuf Oreo's and an open jar of peanut butter, a combination she had introduced to him back in college. He almost laughed.

Enjolras hesitated for a long moment, then found himself sitting in the chair next to her. He took an Oreo, smeared some peanut butter on it with Eponine's knife, and stuffed it into his mouth.

She giggled, and some of the tension dissipated.

"If you need me to read any papers for you, I certainly will," she informed him.

"Thank you," he replied stiffly, though he was secretly grateful. She was the best editor he had ever had, and had been reading over his papers since their first semester together.

Neither said anything for a long while, and Enjolras would be damned if he spoke first.

Then she said something that caught him completely unawares.

"I'm going back to school," she blurted out all of a sudden, her voice still soft and uncertain.

Enjolras almost fell out of his chair, regarding her with shock.

"I've already sent in my applications," she continued. "I've been doing a lot of research, looking at what I might want to do. My plan is to major in business _and_ art or art history or something. I'd like to work at a museum, or in advertising, or maybe even in the theatre circuit."

"That's a big commitment, Eponine," he told her seriously, preparing another peanut butter-smothered Oreo.

"I know," she replied. "I've thought a lot about it. I've made appointments with admissions offices and financial offices – I've done it all. I have a lot of money saved up, and I've only applied to places in and around the city so I can live at home."

"These are tough schools, you know. You've been out for several years –."

"I know what I'm getting into," she snapped, cutting him off. Then she backed off, seeming to remember that Enjolras was virtually a physical landmine, and that pushing too hard might set him off again. "I've thought a lot about this," she continued, voice soft again, eyes staring down at her knotted hands.

Enjolras realized she was nervous.

"Why now?" he asked, curiosity getting the better of him.

She didn't answer at first. Eventually, she murmured, "I don't want to be a waitress forever. I _can't_ be a waitress forever. I just can't."

She looked at him then, but looked away when she saw those intense eyes boring into her.

"And seeing all you boys, all of your success – it just got to me. You all are going to do amazing things with your lives, especially you, Enjolras," her hand unconsciously reached out to cover his, "and then there will be me, working crazy hours down the street in a café. You all will have your lives, and will get married and have kids, maybe move away, and I'll always be here. I don't want to be left behind," she finished quietly.

_Tell him the truth, Eponine. Tell him you want to be good enough for him. Tell him you're doing this so that he won't hate you anymore._

No, that wasn't what this was about. It was about _her_, not Enjolras. But her heart was beating quickly, either way. Eponine found herself craving his approval.

_I miss him_.

Enjolras looked pointedly down at their hands, and Eponine pulled hers away so quickly that it seemed as though his had been on fire. They felt a little cold as she busied her own with making another peanut butter Oreo.

"Well – congratulations. I wish you all the best with your studies," he told her formally.

The look she gave him was one so full of disappointment and heartbreak that he had to look away.

"I should be getting to bed," he announced suddenly, rising from the chair and startling her. "Good night, Eponine."

"Wait, Enjolras!" she exclaimed, leaping up beside him. "I have something for you." She was reserved and timid again, but he could already feel her rising around him like the tide. He fought her current.

Still, he followed her wordlessly to her room, standing at the door as she went inside.

It was a brand new copy of _Neverwhere_, by Neil Gaiman. He had never read anything by Gaiman before, but Eponine had raved about him on several occasions.

"You'll like it," she whispered. She seemed sad.

"Thank you, Eponine. I'll start it before I get too much farther into the semester. Good night." And he left her standing there.

Climbing back into bed, Enjolras tossed the book on his nightstand. However, after nearly an hour of tossing and turning, he picked it up, turned on his light, and started reading it.

* * *

Enjolras was never going to forgive her; that much was certain. Eponine couldn't remember the last time she had been so disappointed.

She had been so excited when he had come into the kitchen, thinking that perhaps, _finally_, things could go back to the way they were. But oh, how wrong she had been.

Things would never go back to how they were, and somewhere deep inside, Eponine knew it.

They couldn't just be friends anymore. They couldn't just go back to sleeping together. It was all ruined.

She had been dreaming about him. Not every night, at least not that she knew, but in her dreams, they were together. They were happy. They laughed, they kissed, they fucked.

She had bought him that copy of _Neverwhere_ weeks ago. It was one of her favorite novels (there wasn't just _one_ favorite, of course), and she had been badgering him to read it for ages. When she had come across a copy in the bookstore around the corner, which rarely had any Gaiman books, she knew she had to get it for him.

Maybe it could say what she couldn't.

Maybe after he read it, he would understand. Maybe he would stay.

The first time she had read the book, it had been a fantastical, moving story about good and evil, life and death, truth and lies. But it was also about bravery, self-discovery and self-confidence, faith, purpose, reality, and perception.

But Enjolras was smart. Maybe he would see those themes. Maybe they would make him think of her, realize that when it came to him, she wasn't _any_ of those, that she couldn't achieve anything that those characters had managed.

Or maybe she should have given him a less complicated book. Boys were stupid anyway, especially when it came to girls. And Enjolras proved no different, except that he was also incredibly _stubborn _when it came to her.

"I just want him back," she whispered into her pillow.

* * *

Enjolras finished the book in two days. Eponine had been right, he _had_ liked it. She knew him entirely too well.

He wasn't sure whether she had intended it or not, but the whole book just _reminded_ him of her. He saw her on every page. She was Door, brave, determined, and mysterious. She was Richard Mayhew, who had fallen through the cracks into the underworld; just like Richard, she was compassionate, hungry for more out of life, but stuck in a rut. The novel itself, its fantastical setting, its subtheme of reality, of faith – it was all her. And it had consumed him; he had loved it, he was hooked.

He would never be able to get away from her.

Enjolras was no longer certain that their current state would ever break. Perhaps it had been too long since they had interacted. The tension between them just a few hours before in the kitchen, weeks after the _incident_, was palpable.

Could they ever move beyond this, now that it had been so long?

Something had to be done. The lease was up in January….

No. He didn't want to leave. His friends were here. He loved this apartment. The rent was good for all of them – he didn't want to have to pay more anywhere else, and he didn't want the others' rent to go up because he left. He also really hated apartment hunting.

No, he and Eponine would have to figure this out on their own.

* * *

Until next time, my lovelies!

P.S. If you haven't read _Neverwhere_, GO DO IT NOW. That's your homework assignment in my absence. There will be a quiz.


	4. Chapter 4

Oh my goodness, you all are SO wonderful! I can't believe how many reviews and follows and favorites this has gotten! Thank you all so much!

I've moooostly gotten past my writer's block, I got a good bit of work done when I was away. Thanks for being patient with my brief hiatus, and your reward (and Easter present?) is another sad chapter.

I'm sorry.

There's not much else to say about it.

Also, I'm actually begging you to send me prompts! Drop me a PM here or message me on tumblr (thisislavieboheme, for those that don't know) so that I can write them for you! They're so fun and I love collaborating and they're extra helpful for getting past writer's block!

I love you guys you're the best and I just can't even with you.

**Disclaimer: **Still no. I'm just listening to the (full) soundtrack and having feels and crying nbd.

* * *

"Why don't you try telling him the truth?" Clémence asked. Eponine could hear the noise in the background, indicating that Clémence was on her lunch break.

"What do you mean?"

"That you're in love with him, idiot."

"This? Really, Clé, again?"

"Oh please, Eponine. Stop denying it and just suck it up already and admit it. You had no problem being in love with Marius for 6 years. Why is being in love with Enjolras for one any different?"

"I just –."

"You're scared, Eponine. And that's fine. Being in love with someone who will never love you back is so much less of a commitment than giving yourself to someone who feels the same way."

"Feels the same way?" It was more of an incredulous statement than a question.

"God, Eponine, I love you, but you're an idiot. He's in love with you. I was hoping you would figure it out on your own, darling, but you're just as stubborn as he is. Maybe more so. You aren't seeing what's right there in front of your eyes because, deep down, you know what you'll find and it scares you."

"You're such a fucking psychiatrist, Clé, did you know that?" Eponine told her with a laugh, coming up on the door of the café and poignantly ignoring her friend's psychoanalysis.

The girl on the other end of the line laughed. "Well not quite, but someday soon I will be. But for now, you get all your eye-opening insights for free. Think about what I said. Listen, Ep, I have to go. But I'll be over with Cour tonight, so I'll see you then."

"Right, see you tonight."

When she walked into the café, Grantaire, Feuilly, and Joly were already there.

"Are you boys really the only ones who are free right now? I thought this was supposed to be a big group reunion, or something."

"Nah, Eponine, we knew if we told you who exactly was coming you'd forget, so there was no point."

"Fair enough," she conceded with a smile, ordering lunch and a beer.

"So," said Joly after a few moments, giving her a knowing smirk, "When exactly were you and Enjolras planning on telling us – firstly – that you were together, and secondly, that you broke up?"

Eponine, who had been snacking on the plate of complementary fries the waitress had brought them (they spent a _lot_ of time at this café, and knew all the staff), froze.

"Yeah, and how come I was literally the last person to know? I _live_ with you fuckers, and everyone kept it a damn secret from me –."

"That's because any time it came up around you, you were already too drunk to notice, R," she told him wryly.

He just grinned. "I'm so proud of you," he cooed, rubbing her head. She swatted him away.

"Seriously," Feuilly said, "If I had known that you were _that_ sort of friend, I would've cashed in on that one years ago."

The comment earned him a fry to the face, and a laugh from the boys.

"Really, though, when did you and Enjolras get together? Inquiring minds want to know," Joly pushed.

"Are you all talking about how 'Ponine and Enjolras have secretly been together for months and have never mentioned it to any of us?" a foreign voice asked. Eponine whirled in her chair to find herself face-to-face with Marius, Cosette and Musichetta behind him.

They had rarely seen the newlyweds since the night of their wedding, giving them plenty of space to settle in and enjoy the beginning of their life together. But they were here now, visiting their friends for the first time in weeks.

Once they had all given their hugs and kisses and squeezed in together, they turned the attention back to Eponine.

"Shit, you guys really aren't going to give this up, are you?"

When they all just looked at her expectantly, she sighed in defeat.

"Fine." She awkwardly cleared her throat, wondering where to begin. "It started several months back, right around when Courfeyrac and Clémence started dating, I suppose."

No one said anything.

Eponine, feeling increasingly uncomfortable with the attention and the topic, heard herself delicately explain to her friends, "We… ah… we weren't _dating_, per se; we were more, um, taking advantage of… certain _physical_ attributes." She actually felt her cheeks warm up a bit.

With that, Musichetta leaned around Joly, who had his arm around her shoulders, and held out her palm expectantly to Feuilly. He sighed and pulled out his wallet, grudgingly handing her a $10 bill.

"You fuckers were _betting on us_?" she asked incredulously.

Musichetta shrugged happily, giving her a winning smile. The others were buzzing and laughing.

Eponine put her face in her hands.

"Oh, come on now, Eponine." A hand was resting on her arm. Marius' hand. Eponine stared at it for a moment. Just a few months ago, her insides would be melting, her heart would be pounding in her chest, and her palms would be sweating.

Now….

"We've all known since the summer," Cosette told her kindly. "We figured it out not too long after our engagement. You guys got really bad at sneaking out of parties together. And the ones you _did_ manage to avoid leaving together, you always left within five or ten minutes of one another."

"Yeah, basically the drunker you both got, the worse you were at being sneaky," Feuilly stated matter-of-factly.

"So what happened?" Musichetta asked gently, cocking her head to the side. Eponine just looked at her, feeling the apprehension cloud her face. "We know it was something bad, because no one has seen you two speak, much less sit in the same room, for the last few months, and when we're all out together, you two stay on opposite sides of the room and completely ignore each other."

Feuilly snorted into his drink. "When they're not too busy staring at each other," he said dryly.

They stared at each other?

Sure, maybe she would look at him from time to time, wondering if he was having a good time or not. Maybe she would catch herself lost in his beauty down the bar – his ocean-blue eyes, those sinfully high cheekbones, that strong jaw, the incredible dirty-blonde hair – but she would always look away before anyone could catch her.

Or not.

"So what did you two fight about?" Grantaire asked.

Eponine gave him an exasperated look. "That's _really_ no one's business," she said regally, holding her head high. But everyone was looking at her expectantly. She sighed, deflated. "We fought after the wedding. It was… it was _really_ bad." She couldn't look at Marius, remembering that it was her feelings for him that had caused the rift with Enjolras in the first place. "We've hardly spoken since," she told them matter-of-factly, doing her best to adopt an unconcerned demeanor.

No one spoke for a while, and the silence was only broken by the arrival of some appetizers.

Eponine dove into her mozzarella sticks vigorously, hoping to both distract herself and stave off more of her friends' inquiries.

"You should tell him how you feel," Cosette said softly, breaking the silence. Her big, kind eyes were boring into Eponine.

She wondered if Cosette could see deep down into her soul; if she knew about Eponine's feelings for Marius, about just how much being in that wedding had killed her, and about how truly _indifferent_ toward it all she felt now.

"I don't know how I feel," she heard herself confess. This was embarrassing. Why were they still discussing this? Why were the boys involved? This was _not_ part of their friendship, right? She helped _them_ with their girl problems, and she made sure they stayed the hell out of her love life, unless she specifically asked for advice or input.

"Is that true?" Cosette asked kindly. Eponine's dark eyes found Cosette's light ones. It was striking to Eponine, how different they were. Cosette was golden and bright, she was daylight. Prim and proper, reserved, unfailingly kind, and optimistic were just _some _of Cosette's qualities. The woman was almost angelic, or, at the very least, she was like a ray of sunshine born into a beautiful human body.

Eponine, by contrast, was dark. Dark hair, dark eyes, even dark skin. She was a creature of the night, a shadow; forced to grow up too soon, always fighting, always wanting, never winning. She said what she thought, had very little filter, cursed like a sailor, and was unfailingly realistic. The dreamer within her had been beaten away long ago, and that only remaining part of her soul spilled out into her artwork. But even that represented the night inside her. The only time she had been a lady was when she had tried to emanate Cosette's manner in order to impress Marius, but she could no more impress him than could the moon produce its own light; rather, she reflected Cosette, much like the moon reflects the sun.

But there was something different, now. Something that made Eponine suddenly feel like Cosette's equal; something that made her feel as though she had attained whatever it was of Cosette's that she envied.

She opened and closed her mouth a few times, unsure of what to say. Cosette just smiled sweetly and reached out to squeeze her hand.

Eponine wasn't really sure what to do; this conversation had taken a turn – even before the arrival of Marius, Cosette, and Musichetta – for the astronomically awkward.

"Somebody else please talk now," Eponine begged through her teeth. Musichetta immediately began telling a hilarious story about her kindergarteners, taking the spotlight far, far away from Eponine.

She hated Enjolras for leaving her alone to deal with this. It didn't matter if he was at work. She was annoyed, damnit, and couldn't help sending him a text informing him of what had happened.

She received a reply almost immediately, but it only annoyed her further: "Sorry." It was followed immediately by another that simply read, "No more texts, at work."

Eponine tossed her phone on the table, stuffing her now-cold mozzarella sticks into her mouth.

At least they wouldn't disappoint her.

* * *

That night, Eponine lay in bed thinking about the conversation with her friends.

It was slightly alarming, her _lack_ of response to Marius' proximity. He had been sitting next to her, he had hugged her and kissed her cheek when he arrived, he had put a comforting hand on her arm. She might as well have been sitting next to Grantaire, arguably the most _platonic_ friend she had ever had.

Well, it wasn't quite like that. Her stomach had stirred when she saw him, but it felt almost habitual, especially after 6 years. Her heart had stayed calm after her initial surprise, and, besides how awkward it was to talk about fucking Enjolras, she had been rather indifferent towards Marius' presence.

Eponine wasn't sure what any of it meant. She had talked about it briefly with Clémence, but she and Courfeyrac were cooking dinner together and Eponine wanted to let them have their time together. Plus, she knew what Clémence thought about the whole thing.

And Eponine was starting to wonder if Clémence wasn't right.

It made sense – why else, besides being in love with her, would Enjolras remain so perpetually angry with her for so long over her feelings for Marius? It made sense, after how he had been acting.

She supposed he was too proud, and too respectful of her own pride – and, it pained her to admit it, but he seemed too familiar with her own fears, as well – to embarrass her by declaring his love. Especially when he was so pissed off.

But did she love him?

She certainly didn't love Marius anymore; after six years of unrequited affection for him, hardly feeling _anything_ said more than enough.

She heard the bolt unlock and the door open. Her heart skipped; Enjolras was home. Eponine wanted to bound out into the living room to meet him, to tell him that she thought she might finally be free from Marius, that before long she would be quite indifferent. But he wouldn't want to speak to her.

* * *

On a Thursday evening several days later, a large group of them were back in the café for dinner when Eponine's phone rang.

"Azelma," she answered. She didn't speak too frequently with her sister, but always tried be available for her.

However, Eponine's face fell in a matter of seconds from happy to concerned, imploring her sister to calm down, that she couldn't hear her when she was so hysterical, so outright panicked.

"I'll be there as soon as I can," she said urgently, standing and quickly gathering her things. She threw a $20 bill onto the table as she pulled on her hat, scarf, coat, and gloves, murmuring something about paying someone back if she owed any more money.

Clémence and Combeferre, in between whom she was sitting, were the only two who noticed at first, but as she rushed out of the café, everyone was imploring her to stop and say what was happening. However, Eponine didn't even seem to notice or hear them, and she bolted out the door, running down the street towards the apartment, leaving her friends behind to share worried glances.

Eponine ran up the stairs, skipping them two at a time. She burst into the apartment, and slammed directly into Enjolras, who grabbed her shoulders to steady them both.

"Eponine, I was just heading down –." He didn't even finish as she wrenched herself from his grasp and ran into her room.

He could hear her upending her room, and went to the doorway to see what was happening.

She looked panicked, bordering on hysterical, and ignored him as he stood there observing her.

"Eponine, what's wrong? What's happening?" he asked urgently, forgetting his anger for a moment.

"Nothing," she replied curtly. He tried not to let it bother him – she was more distressed than he had ever seen her – but he couldn't help it.

"Tell me," he demanded, a bit harsher than he had intended. "Don't shut me out, maybe I can help you."

"Not now, Enjolras," she snapped. "I really don't need one of your lectures right now."

She turned, met his eyes, and melted.

She was on her bed the next moment, hands in her face taking deep breaths, seemingly trying to stave off a panic attack.

Enjolras sat next to her, rubbing her back and soothingly instructing her to breath. When she was somewhat calm, he said, "Eponine, you're running around like a crazy person. I just got about 10 texts from everyone in the café wanting to know if I'd seen you and if you were ok. _What's going on?_"

He was a little surprised when she spoke, almost immediately, without any fight. "I have to get to the hospital," she told him in a resigned voice. He waited patiently for her to continue. "It's – it's Gavroche."

Enjolras felt his stomach clench and his heart start to pound with dread.

"He was shot last night, something about getting caught in gang crossfire. They brought him in but weren't able to ID him until just a little while ago. He's in surgery and it – it's not good." Her voice was tiny, much higher than usual.

Enjolras, feeling a lump of panic in his throat, took her hand and squeezed it. She looked at their entwined hands, lips parted in slight surprise. "Get a bag, bring some water bottles, maybe a book or something to distract you, and some snacks. We're going to be there for a while," he instructed, pulling out his phone.

She didn't question him, just ran off into the kitchen.

He opened his phone to call Joly.

"Enj, is everything ok?" Joly sounded concerned.

"No, Jol, I'm going to need to borrow your car. It's Gavroche – he was attacked last night and is in the hospital. It's pretty serious. I'm taking Eponine there now, and I think a car –."

"Not a problem, man, use it as long as you need it. It's parked in front of your place, I'll meet you at the corner to give you the keys."

Ten minutes later, Enjolras was escorting Eponine to Joly's car. Joly was standing next to it, pacing, and rushed Eponine as soon as she opened the door to the building. She hugged him back tightly, and Enjolras watched as he said something to her, to which she nodded, and asked her to be strong for her brother on all of their behalf.

* * *

They had barely pulled up in front of the visitor's entrance and Eponine had already jumped out of the car – totally forgetting her large purse – to run inside. Enjolras cursed, and drove around for what felt like hours to find an empty parking spot.

He felt like an idiot, carrying her purse inside. When he got there, she was nowhere to be seen. He went to the desk and dropped the giant bag on the table.

"I'm afraid visiting hours are over for tonight, sir."

"Actually, I'm not here to visit. A girl with dark hair ran in here about 10 minutes ago. Her brother was shot. I'm her – I have all her stuff. I brought her. Could you tell me where she is?"

The lady at the desk smiled kindly and gave him directions to a waiting room near the emergency operating rooms.

"Poor dear looked completely heartbroken. She's lucky to have a boyfriend like you," she said, giving him a nametag. He smiled sadly, thanked her, grabbed Eponine's bag, and hurried off.

He found her a few minutes later at the emergency room nurse's station. He put a hand on her lower back as he came up next to her. She seemed to involuntarily and unconsciously lean into him a bit.

"There you are," she said. Her voice was tight, but he thought she looked a little relieved to see him.

"I brought you your bag," he said, handing it to her. She accepted it wordlessly as a nurse walked over, holding a chart.

"Gavroche Thénardier, right? I'm afraid he's still in surgery. You'll have to wait for a while to hear anything else," he said kindly, smiling supportively at her and Enjolras. "There's a waiting room around the corner. We'll let you know when we have any news."

Eponine sighed, clearly distressed, and turned toward Enjolras, scratching her forehead helplessly. She looked lost.

"Come on," he said softly, directing her towards the waiting room.

She walked in before him, and a girl who must have been Azelma sprung from a chair.

"Eponine!" the girl exclaimed.

Eponine took her in her arms, holding her tight for a long while. Finally, they broke apart and turned toward Enjolras. Azelma resembled Eponine, though her hair was a lighter brown, even tinged with a bit of red, and she looked several years younger. For some reason, he felt like she was around the age of 19. She had obviously been crying.

Eponine looked over the shorter girl's head, at a tall, lanky boy with a long mop of dark hair and dark, baggy, ripped clothing.

"I see you brought your boyfriend." Her tone was clipped. Enjolras vaguely remembered her mentioning that she didn't approve of Azelma's boyfriend, though it got her out of their parents' grasp, which was far better.

"I see you brought yours," Azelma countered, matching her sister's tone. Oh yeah, they were _definitely_ related.

"This is Enjolras," Eponine said unceremoniously, gesturing at him.

"Nice to finally meet you, Azelma. I wish it wasn't here," he said, trying to be as soothing as he could. Azelma appeared to appraise him as they shook hands, though he couldn't even begin to guess what she had decided.

"This is Montparnasse," she said, introducing the lanky youth behind her. Montparnasse nodded, but said nothing, although he did shake Enjolras' extended hand.

"Are Mom and Dad here?" Eponine asked impatiently. Enjolras could hear the strain in her voice. Meetings with her parents were never thrilling for her, even under the best circumstances.

Azelma and Montparnasse returned to their seats, directly against the wall and facing the doorway. Enjolras followed Eponine to seats along the adjacent wall, putting a little bit of distance between herself and her sister. When he had taken off his coat and scarf and hat, he settled in next to her. She laced her fingers through his; he wasn't even sure if she realized it.

"_What happened_?" Eponine demanded.

Azelma took a deep breath. "Gav was walking home from a friend's house late last night. Mom and Dad refused to give him a ride, and the kid obviously doesn't drive and his mom works a night shift somewhere and his dad was sleeping because he works during the day, so Gav was on his own. And, well, you know the neighborhood. He was in the wrong place at the wrong time. The police are saying it was gang violence, with the exception of him, all the others that were killed or wounded belonged to two rival gangs. Ep, it's bad. They weren't sure he was going to live through the first surgery."

Eponine was squeezing his fingers, and hiding her face in her other hand. "_Fuck_," she murmured under her breath. She let go of his hand, leaning forward and cradling her face in her hands, propping her elbows on her knees. Enjolras reached around her, rubbing small circles on her back, trying to be as comforting as possible. He could tell that she was trying not to cry.

All of a sudden, a nasally woman's voice drawled, "Well if it ain't Eponine _Jondrette_," from the doorway. Eponine stiffened like a board beneath his hand and slowly looked up.

The woman was short, with dark, wildly curly hair. The man that accompanied her was very tall with a slightly darker complexion than his wife, and a black pouf of hair on his head. They were the type of people that Enjolras' law friends would most likely refer to as, quite simply, "white trash."

Eponine stood, stretching herself to her full height. Azelma and Montparnasse were watching with apt silence. Enjolras stayed where he was, not wanting to directly get involved, nor wanting to get in the way of what he knew Eponine had to say.

"This is your fault," she snarled at her parents. "If you had just gone and _fucking_ picked him up from his friend's house, or, I don't know, given him a _curfew_ or forbidden him to be out in that part of the city alone at night, maybe he wouldn't be dying on an operating table right now!" She was furious. "Let me guess," she continued, "Dad, you were gambling with your no-good tenants, cheating to steal their money. Mom, you were pretending to be drunk to get money from the other customers. You are _disgusting_ excuses for parents –."

"You'll shut your mouth right now, Eponine, or I'll do it for you," her father threatened.

All of a sudden, everything that she had ever mentioned or implied about her parents made sense. Enjolras understood why she felt the way she did.

"Baby, I'm so happy to see you," her mother cooed, moving to hug her. Eponine took a step back, and the older woman started to cackle. "What a little bitch you've always been, Eponine! Can't even give mama a hug hello! And in such _trying_ times."

"You two are disgusting. Why are you even here? You made it very clear when I was young that you didn't give two shits about your kids. I remember – you cried when Gavroche was born. Not because you had another child, but because you had another mouth to feed. Another money-sucking _leech_ to take care of. You've never cared any more about him than you've cared about Azelma or me. So why are you here?"

"That's my baby you're talkin' about!" the old woman exclaimed, pretending to be affronted.

"Go home," Eponine ordered.

"Aw, baby," her father said, reaching out to cup her cheek. Eponine again flinched away. An ugly look passed over his face as he growled, "We're here to see about the money for Gavroche. We ain't got the funds to pay for all these surgeries and this hospital care. Soon's he's out, we're takin' him home."

"Oh no you're not," Eponine countered evenly. Enjolras felt his gut twisting in repulsion. "He will die if he doesn't stay in the hospital. No, he's staying right where he is. If you two try and get him discharged and brought home, I will personally call the police and have you arrested for child endangerment and neglect and abuse and whatever the hell else I can think of!"

Her father slapped her, and Enjolras was instantly out of his chair. On the edge of his vision, he could see even Azelma and Montparnasse leaping up. Eponine was hunched over, her hand on her cheek, avoiding her father's gaze. Enjolras wrapped his arms around her, loosely but protectively.

"Oh, Eponine, is this your _boyfriend_? What a catch, good job, girl! He looks rich too, that's good for all of us. You should marry 'im!" her mother exclaimed, sneering a bit at her eldest child.

Eponine glared at her. "If I do marry him, you can be damn sure you'll never see a cent of any money that is his, or mine for that matter," she snapped.

"I think you'd better leave," Enjolras heard himself say. It was much harsher than he had intended it; he hadn't wanted to get too involved in their family drama. But seeing Eponine's own father slap her across the face, especially after all those appalling things he had said about Gavroche, was too much. He wanted to stay neutral, but he didn't want to idly watch as the woman he loved was being abused, either.

"I agree," drawled Montparnasse. Azelma was pleadingly hanging on his arm.

Thénardier looked back and forth between the two young men, paying particular attention to Enjolras – it was the only thing they seemed to agree upon, that Enjolras was undoubtedly the bigger threat – and snarled, "Fine. Good luck paying for all of this."

He looked at Azelma. "Tell us how the kid turns out," he spat, turning to glare at, first, Enjolras, then Eponine before he turned on his heel and stalked out.

Eponine stared down her cackling mother, until she, too, took her leave. Then she collapsed against him.

"Let me see," he murmured, holding her chin and looking at the large red welt across her cheek. He lightly ran his thumb over the spot, and Eponine half-closed her eyes.

Suddenly, the same nurse who had given them directions appeared. "Excuse me, ma'am," he said, addressing Eponine, "There were some complaints about some of the people in this room."

Enjolras suddenly was relieved that this room was so secluded from the rest of this wing; otherwise they would have truly had a scene on their hands.

"It was my parents. They're gone now, though, we're fine. But if – _when_ – Gavroche wakes up, I want child services to come talk to him. They will never see him again, not if I have anything to do about it," she vowed fiercely.

The nurse, who apparently doubled as an orderly, surveyed her for a moment, eyes resting on the smarting red mark. "I'll make a note of that, ma'am," he promised, writing something on the chart. "Your parents didn't give us any insurance information. And if you have any, I'm afraid we can't accept it, since you are not his legal guardian."

"My parents don't have insurance," she said, sounding suddenly exhausted.

"Your parents will be billed, then, in about a month. They can set up a payment plan with the hospital."

"I don't want my parents anywhere near Gavroche. I want custody, you can send the bill to me." Even she sounded a little surprised to hear herself say that so definitively.

"If you are granted temporary custody, you will be sent the bill. Someone will get in touch with you, probably tomorrow, from child services. You can discuss all of this then. I'll come and let you know when we have news about your brother," the nurse told her with a small, encouraging smile. He took his leave.

Enjolras had been standing behind her for the conversation, and pulled out his phone. "Let me get a picture, Ep," he said. Eponine looked at him like he was crazy. "Your cheek is still red from where your dad hit you. It's evidence, you can show it to child services when you meet them." She conceded, and he saved the photo.

When they sat back down, she leaned into him, so he wrapped his arm around her. She was curled on the chair like a cat.

"I'll help you pay for this," he murmured.

She twisted, looking up at him. "No, I don't need your money. I have money saved. I'll go on a payment plan, and I'll pay every month, as long as it takes." She was angry. She hated being reminded of how poor she was.

"That money is for you to go back to school," he reminded her.

"This is more important," she snapped.

"Eponine, let me help you," he implored. "I love Gavroche, too. He's like a brother to me. I have money; let me take care of this."

Eponine just settled back into his arms. "Well, if I can't get custody of him, it won't matter anyway."

"Excuse me, Eponine, aren't you forgetting that you have a future super-lawyer for a friend? I'll help you with this. He'll come and live with us. We do have the sleeper sofa. Or maybe you can move into my room, or I can move into yours and he can have the empty room," he suggested, flicking her nose jokingly.

She giggled at that. "Yes, I'm sure some social worker would _love_ to see Gavroche living with 3 male twenty-somethings and his sister, who sometimes gives him her room because she's busy screwing one of the guys. Yeah, that'll work."

He smiled and stroked her hair. "We'll figure something out. We'll talk to Grantaire and Courfeyrac. We could probably turn the den into a bedroom. I mean, Gavroche is going to be 16 years old on his next birthday, right? They'll take what he says about all of this into account. Don't worry, Ep, we'll come up with a kickass argument for you to have custody."

"Good thing I quit Hooters," she said dryly.

The hours dragged by. Azelma and Montparnasse had dozed off. Initially, Eponine had gone to the nurses' station every 10 minutes or so to ask for news, but eventually they had insisted that she stay in the waiting room.

Enjolras had gone to the coffee machine a few times, but had mostly been urging Eponine to drink her water to stay hydrated. She stayed in his arms the whole time, dozing off for a few minutes here and there, her body jerking awake when she remembered where she was. For his part, Enjolras stroked her hair, and rested his chin or his cheek on her head. He wished he could plant a few kisses on her crown and her temples, but that was a line that he knew he could not yet cross, despite the fact that she was draped over him and he was holding her tightly.

It was nearing one in the morning when the same nurse returned to the waiting room, accompanied by a doctor in scrubs, his head under a cap and his mouth protector loose around his neck.

"I'm Doctor Brevet. Are you the family?" the doctor asked. Eponine sprung up, Azelma running to join her. Montparnasse snaked an arm around the younger girl's waist. Enjolras stood next to Eponine, and was slightly surprised when she reached out to grasp his hand tightly.

"I'm Eponine Jondrette, this is my sister Azelma," she announced. "Is Gavroche alright?"

"He's in the recovery room. I'm not going to mince words, Ms. Jondrette. This is very serious. When they say 'wrong place, wrong time,' it applies to your brother. He was shot three times, and a fourth bullet grazed his head. One shot was in his shoulder; it was the least serious. The other two, however, were in his chest and abdomen. We were able to stop the internal bleeding, but he has lost a lot of blood, and the resulting trauma to the body – both from the wounds and the blood loss – is severe. We managed to stabilize him, but he's still in fairly critical condition, so he is in an induced medical coma. Right now, he's in the recovery room. We want to keep him there for a few hours, in case we need to go back in and operate again. Once he's a little more stable, he'll be moved to the ICU, where he will remain until he stabilizes enough to be brought out of the coma and moved to a regular room."

No one spoke.

"My recommendation to you all is to go home and get some rest. Nothing is going to happen for quite some time because we'll be monitoring him for the next several hours. He should be in a room by early afternoon. Go home, get some sleep, and come back later. We'll have more information for you then. Excuse me," he said, nodding at them and taking his leave.

"What if something changes?" Azelma asked. Eponine just looked shell-shocked.

"We'll call you if anything gets worse," the nurse promised. "Listen to what Dr. Brevet said, go home and get some rest," he urged, taking down Eponine's cell phone number and following the doctor out.

"Why don't you come stay with us?" Enjolras offered, looking at Azelma and Montparnasse. "That way, we can all come back together."

He guided Eponine back to her things. She seemed to be in shock.

"That would be wonderful, Enjolras, thank you," Azelma replied, sounding grateful.

* * *

Stay wonderful, lovelies!


	5. Chapter 5

Ok so I'm pretty sure I have the best readers in the universe. Seriously, you guys are awesome. Thanks for all the wonderful reviews, the favorites, the follows I just love you guys so much! Thanks for not hating meeeee!

I've been writing a lot, which is good! I hope everyone will be happy with how this ends, though I'm still waiting for an ending to come about. I just keep writing and writing and writing... so much for this being a oneshot! I'm almost finished with Chapter 6. I don't know how much longer this will be, but I think that I'd like to keep it around 10 chapters.

If my updating is slightly sporadic this week, please forgive me! I have a really busy schedule and now that my mini Easter break is over, I'm back in the swing of things! But it shouldn't be more than a few days. =)

**Disclaimer: **Oh Hugo...

* * *

When they got back to the apartment, Enjolras was relieved to find that Grantaire and Courfeyrac were in their bedrooms. He didn't want Eponine to be inundated with questions.

Eponine went into her room. She hadn't spoken the whole ride home, hadn't even looked at him. Enjolras went to his own room, grabbing a few things he needed and a pillow. "You two can have my room," he told Azelma and Montparnasse, "I'll sleep on the couch."

They thanked him and retired. A few minutes later, he could hear the muffled sounds of Azelma crying and Montparnasse trying to comfort her. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he found himself praying that they didn't decide to have sex in his bed.

Eponine had yet to emerge from her room, though the door was open, so Enjolras went into the bathroom to get ready for bed. He was exhausted, emotionally drained, and he was sure that didn't even _begin_ to touch on how Eponine felt.

He checked on her, having changed into fresh boxers and his pajamas, before he settled in on the couch for the night. She was just sitting on her bed, staring at her hands.

"Eponine?" he asked cautiously, knocking lightly on the door.

"I heard her crying," she whispered. "But I think she's asleep now. Or they're having really quiet sex, I don't know. I would change your sheets tomorrow, if I were you." She seemed a little hysterical and extremely scattered.

"Why don't you take a shower?" he suggested. She nodded. He took her hand, grabbing her pajamas and some clean underwear from one of her drawers (it disturbed him to realize he knew exactly where she kept her underwear).

He took her to the bathroom, and ran some hot water. She was still in her outerwear, so he gently stripped it all off her. "Get undressed and get in," he ordered gently, taking her things to hang up.

Enjolras went to her room, pulling back the covers on her bed and feeling very much like a boyfriend. Like _her_ boyfriend. Despite how dire and frightening and awful these circumstances were, it electrified him to have her so close again. He had missed her terribly.

What was more, she wasn't fighting him. He had never seen her so emotionally undone before. It was hardly exciting – quite the contrary, he had hoped that seeing her this emotional would be about something silly, not the near-death of her brother – but it made him happy that she was relying so heavily on his support, that for once she wasn't shutting everyone out and carrying the world on her own shoulders.

When he returned to the bathroom, he was pleased to see her clothes lying in a heap on the floor. He was about to leave in order to give her privacy when he heard a choked sob, followed by several more, come from behind the shower curtain.

His heart constricted in his chest and his stomach turned.

"Eponine?" he called softly, closing and locking the door behind him.

"Go _away_, Enjolras," she begged, voice thick with tears.

Without a second thought, Enjolras pulled off his t-shirt and sweatpants and boxers, and slipped into the shower.

Eponine spun in shock. "Get _out!_" she cried.

"Why? It's not like you have anything I haven't seen before. It's not like there's any part of _you_ I haven't seen before either," he reminded her with a smirk.

She gave a blubbery laugh. "You haven't seen me like this," she reminded him softly.

And she was right. He had never expected her to look like this. She was a mess. When he had imagined her crying, it was always while she was fighting for something or arguing with someone. She was still the strong, stubborn, precocious Eponine he knew.

This girl – she was different. This Eponine was broken. And it broke his heart. He understood now why she didn't want to show anyone that side of her. She didn't want them to think exactly what he was thinking now, that she was just _so_ vulnerable.

"Enjolras…." But before she could even say anything else, she broke down, doubling over as she sobbed, covering her mouth with her hand.

Enjolras immediately gathered her into his arms, holding her as she sobbed into his chest and his shoulder and his neck, her tears washed away by the warm water.

He held her until she calmed down a bit, then he washed her hair for her. He wanted so desperately to kiss her, to absorb her pain and fear through her lips and take it on himself, but it wasn't possible. And she wouldn't want it that way either.

So instead, he said, "Eponine, we _do_ have to pay for hot water. Maybe we should wrap this up."

She laughed – and hiccupped – into his shoulder and conceded. He turned the water off, but she was still so warm against him that he hardly noticed its absence. Enjolras wrapped her in her towel before grabbing his own, trying to hide the fact that his body most definitely _had_ felt her warmth up against him when that first rush of cold air hit. He wrapped his towel low around his waist, hoping she hadn't seen and willing his desire and lust for her away.

He dried himself off and pulled his clothes back on as Eponine brushed her teeth, towel wrapped around her head rather than her body. Her shoulders were sagging and she was moving slowly, clearly emotionally and physically spent, but even so, she was the most beautiful woman Enjolras thought he had ever seen.

He longed to touch her the way he used to, before he blew up at her, before he turned into a jealous man, before everything between them soured. He wished he could go up behind her now, snake his arms around her, have her tremble in his arms and lean into his chest as he explored the places on her body with which only he was familiar….

"Enjoying the view?" she asked. The question was wry, teasing, but lacking her normal punch. He immediately felt guilty. He realized he had been staring at her as he fantasized.

He was sitting on the lid of the toilet, waiting as she blew her hair dry; it took a long time, but he couldn't even dream of leaving, even though he knew he should.

It was happening again. He had gotten to a good place with his feelings for Eponine. He was managing to pull himself out of the crashing waves, to swim back to shore, to fight her current. He was treading water successfully, so close to being free. But now – well, the tide was rising again to embrace him, and he was very, very quickly losing his strength to fight. He was as in love with her as ever, and he knew it. There was no fighting it.

Her hair was hardly dry when she gave up, but it was much less soaked than when she had started. She – regrettably, for Enjolras – pulled on her pajamas then, hung up her towel, and opened the bathroom door.

Neither of them had any idea what time it was.

He followed her out of the bathroom, and walked with her, prepared to part ways. "Good night, Ep," he said. "Promise me you'll get some sleep." He turned toward the couch, but she snatched up his hand before he could take so much as one step.

"Stay with me," she pleaded, "I don't want to be alone." Her eyes were filling with tears again as she clung to his arm. "Please," she implored.

Enjolras reached up, brushing her left temple with his thumb as he ran a hand lightly through a strand of dark hair, tucking it behind her ear. He nodded and allowed her to lead him into her room. He closed the door behind him and crawled in with her, holding her just as he had the night Marius and Cosette got engaged. Except tonight, she was pressed flush against him, considerably more tense, clinging to him. He held her tightly in response.

They were silent for a long while, her face on his chest, his chin against her forehead. He was lightly, soothingly, combing his fingers against her scalp and through her hair.

"Thanks," he suddenly heard her whisper. She sounded so worn, so broken.

"What for?"

"For being there with me. At the hospital, and… and here. What I did to you… well, I don't deserve it."

"Stop, Ep. This isn't about our fight. This is about you, my best friend, and Gavroche, the closest thing to a little brother I've ever had. I don't care what you said. I just want you to be okay again. I want Gavroche to be okay again."

To his surprise, she started to cry again. His stomach knotted has he calmingly stroked her head and rubbed her back, eventually turning on his side and cradling her against his chest. His shirt was wet.

She said nothing, and he let it remain silent. He didn't think she had ever cried to anyone like this, had ever been comforted by someone else when it was all too much. The fact that she wasn't pushing him away now made the little bit of his remaining anger towards her dissipate almost completely. This was not the Eponine of even a few months ago.

Even so, Enjolras knew her well enough to know that she most certainly would not want him to _speak_ while she cried. She was a very physical being, and she needed that physical support now. Not sex, per se. No, she just needed someone to hold her and be there. To try to talk to her would have chased her away, possibly so far into her mind that he would never find a way back in.

He let her cry herself out, trying to prove to her that it was all right to go to someone else for support. That it was all right to go to _him_ when she couldn't handle things on her own. That she didn't have to do everything herself.

Crying had been reduced errant tears, to large sniffles, and finally to big, shaking breaths as Eponine attempted to calm herself down.

"Sorry about your shirt," she said wryly, eyeing the giant, soaked patch on his chest. Enjolras looked down at her swollen eyes and soaked face and runny nose, and gave her a genuine smile.

"No wonder you hate crying," he said, wanting to cheer her up, but choosing his words with care. He was walking a fine line here. She was vulnerable for once, and one wrong word could irreparably ruin everything between them. "You look like shit," he teased.

To his relief she gave him a shaky grin and swatted his arm. "Shut up," she murmured halfheartedly.

Encouraged, he sat up – she moved aside, thinking he wanted to resituate himself – and, to her surprise, pulled off the shirt. He bunched it up in his hand and playfully smeared it across her face to wipe up her tears.

She gave a watery laugh at that, gently pushing him away. She was sitting up now, and took another deep, shaky breath. He used the shirt again, this time much more gently, much more seriously, to stop her runny nose and to dry the tears clinging to her lashes.

He tossed the shirt aside then, and joked, "You can keep that."

Eponine giggled again and they settled back down. Her cheek was burning into his chest, the fingers she was dragging lazily, absentmindedly across his abdomen were trails of fire. He felt desire bubbling up inside of him again, and he fought as hard as he could to push it back down.

"I hope Azelma didn't hear me crying," she remarked, still sounding very far away. "Or the others."

"Don't worry about them," he murmured. "If you're that worried about it, you can tell them it was me."

Eponine snorted weakly. "I'm so tired," she said, curling tighter against him.

"Go to sleep," he replied, rubbing her back.

"You won't leave?" She sounded so concerned, so childlike then. She was depending on him, for once, rather than on herself. In spite of the situation, Enjolras smiled.

He stroked her hair then, leaning down to kiss the crown of her head. "I'm not going anywhere," he assured her.

* * *

Enjolras wasn't sure how long they laid there silently, but he thought he must have dozed off, though he wasn't sure for how long, because he was jolted back to consciousness when Eponine suddenly announced, "I can't sleep."

"Can I do anything to help?" he asked groggily.

She twisted herself up to fully look at him, "I woke you up," she said, taking in his bleary, sleepy eyes. "I'm sorry."

"No, no, don't be. If you're awake, I want to be awake too," he told her.

It must have been close to 4 in the morning now. Maybe even later.

Eponine was looking at him through tired, hooded eyes, only a few inches away from his face, propped up on her elbow. Her other arm was across his torso, unconsciously tapping her fingertips against his ribs. He looked at her mouth; she was biting her lip as she looked down at him, gaze flickering back and forth between his eyes and his own lips.

Enjolras desperately wanted to kiss her – her closeness had been driving him wild all night – but was concerned that in doing so he would be taking advantage of her in such a vulnerable state.

He looked at her lips.

But then again, this was Eponine. She wasn't just any old girl. Perhaps, given how emotionally cut off she usually was, she was exceptionally vulnerable right now, more so than an average person would be. But somehow he doubted it. Eponine always knew what she wanted. He couldn't trick her into doing anything if he tried. She also knew him better than he always expected her to; she knew that he never made a move if he weren't certain it was welcome.

She had released her lip from between her teeth, and unconsciously wet it with her tongue.

It was too much for Enjolras after that. He couldn't help bringing his hand up to cup her cheek, stroking its apple with his thumb before leaning up to close the space between them.

Her lips were soft and wet – or maybe that was her eyelashes, he couldn't tell. He mustn't have been asleep for too long, if they were still damp with tears.

She tasted even better than he remembered; familiar, yet exotic and intoxicating all at once.

Something within him seemed to burst; he had been wanting this moment since their fight, had missed her more than he could ever imagine.

It didn't matter that she was broken from Gavroche and from Marius, that she was poor and angry and sad, all that mattered was that he, Enjolras, could comfort her, touch her, and no one else could.

He was barely still treading water.

Eponine's hand was on his neck, pulling him and forcing him to roll over on top of her as she lay back on the pillow. Having him on her like that again, even just a bit, made her feel infinitely more secure. She had always liked his weight on her, whether she wanted to admit it or not, and had oddly felt so much heavier on her own when they weren't speaking.

He deepened the kiss, his hands beginning to explore the taught skin at her hips.

It was over just as quickly as it had started, though, as a noise in the hallway outside Eponine's door caused them to spring apart, both breathing heavily.

They lay there for a long moment, but nothing else happened. Their moment, however, had passed. Enjolras knew he had let his desire get the better of him, and that no matter how strong Eponine was, she was in no condition to be physical with him.

She seemed to unconsciously understand that they were done, because she settled back in his arms. However, this time she laced her fingers through his.

"Everyone knows about us," she informed him. She sounded very tired, and still a little breathless.

"What?"

"Yeah. We're apparently the worst kept secret. They cornered me down at the Musain the other day. I texted you about it, don't you remember?"

"All you said was 'everyone knows.' I assumed you meant they knew we had fought."

"You're a moron," she told him matter-of-factly.

"When did they figure it out?" he asked, ignoring her teasing.

"Over the summer. They said we got really bad about sneaking, especially when one or both of us were drunk. So at least we don't have to sneak anymore."

_Anymore?_ Although he was as much in love with her as ever, and was _ecstatic_ about their recovered friendship, Enjolras couldn't help but wonder if Eponine would be her old, stubborn self again once Gavroche healed. And what was more, he was fairly certain he couldn't go back to just being friends with benefits.

He was too far out to sea and in much too deep to go back to how things were.

"I read your book," he told her, quickly changing the subject. He wanted to avoid _that_ conversation as long as possible. It was especially inappropriate now, given everything that had happened.

"Did you like it?" she asked, perking up a bit.

Enjolras was stroking her hand with his thumb and absently playing with her hair. "I read it in two days. You were right about Gaiman – he's not my usual, but I _really_ loved it."

She gave a small, albeit triumphant, smile. "Told you," was all she said, yawning.

Eponine's eyes were beginning to droop, and she curled tightly against him. As he watched, she entered the ultimate state of vulnerability, her breathing growing slow and deep as she fell into unconsciousness in his arms.

Their faces were only inches apart; they were sharing a pillow. From this vantage point, Eponine seemed, for once, completely at ease. Her face was peaceful, lips slightly parted, chest rising and falling against his. Enjolras couldn't remember ever seeing anyone so beautiful.

He closed his eyes, and the last thing he was aware of before he fell into the abyss was the twitch of her hand where it lay still entwined with his.

* * *

_It was utter chaos. They were behind the barricade, a barricade made of – what? – furniture? Carriages? Doors?_

_Bullets whizzed all around him. He was shouting orders at his men – no, they weren't his men, they were his friends – to fire in return._

_He looked over just in time to see Eponine take a bullet in the gut. He watched bitterly, the rain pouring on them all, producing the tears he could not, as she died in Marius' arms._

_Then little Gavroche, a child once more, fell to the bullets._

_And his friends, all of them, dead and dying and bleeding around him._

_He could hear the sound of the guns now, ringing awfully, over and over._

Riiiiiing! Riiiiiing!

_No. Those weren't guns. Guns didn't make that sound._

_He knew what that noise was – it was so familiar, he had heard it before._

Riiiiiing! Riiiiiing!

_He turned, seeing Eponine's limp body lying in a heap against a building. He would be joining her soon. He screamed her name._

Riiiiiing! Riiiiiing!

_What was that noise?_

Riiiiiing! Riiiiiing!

_A phone?_

_Eponine!_

He realized he had been saying her name in his sleep.

She made a noise, but did not reply.

_Riiiiiing! Riiiiiing!_

Enjolras opened his eyes, the room bright with sun. _Her phone…._

It was her phone ringing. Not gunshots. Was someone calling with news of Gavroche? He lunged over Eponine, suddenly completely awake, grabbing for the ringing cell phone on her nightstand.

"Yes? Hello?" he asked frantically.

"Hello, I'm looking for Eponine Jondrette. I'm calling from the hospital about her brother, Gavroche Thénardier," said a female voice on the other end.

"Yes, this is her phone, hang on just one sec –."

The phone was yanked from his hand before he could finish his sentence. Eponine was sitting up next to him, apparently awakened when he essentially _jumped_ on her as he reached for the phone.

"This is Eponine Jondrette. Are you calling about Gavroche? Is he all right? Is everything ok?"

He checked his own phone. It was after eleven in the morning. He had several text messages from his friends, but would read them later. Instead, he was staring attentively at Eponine, who was in turn attentively listening to the nurse on the other end of the line.

"Yes, thank you so much. We'll be there soon," Eponine said, hanging up. She dropped the phone then, and leaned between her knees, her face in her hands.

Enjolras put his hand on her back, feeling the curve of her spine beneath his palm. She took a few deep breaths, then looked up at him. "They've moved him to a room. He's in the ICU, but they're thinking they might be able to bring him out of the coma and move him to a regular room in a few days," she told him, laughing a bit in relief.

Enjolras felt his own smile mirror hers, and suddenly she was in his arms, and they were hugging each other tightly and falling back on the bed, a giggling mess of blankets and limbs and pure _relief_.

When they calmed down, she said, "He's hardly out of the woods yet, but I guess he did a lot better last night after the surgery than they expected him to."

He was propping his head on one of his arms; with the other, he brushed some hair out of her face. She gave him that half smile of hers, the one that drove him crazy, and then was up an instant later, bolting out of her room to wake up Azelma and Montparnasse.

* * *

About an hour and a half later, they were back at the hospital. They had taken Joly's car again, but Enjolras had informed Eponine that he wanted to return it to their friend later that day or the next so Joly could have it back to go to work on Monday morning.

After hearing the good news, he had sent out a quick group message to his friends with an update on Gavroche's condition and the promise of more news as it came, then he had hopped in the shower.

On the way to the hospital, he had stopped at the gas station to fill up Joly's tank. Eponine had insisted on giving him some money, though he wouldn't let her pay for all of it, and when he went in to pay asked if anyone wanted any food. Montparnasse went in with him, getting himself and Azelma some breakfast, but an unusually quiet Eponine had absently waved him away when he asked. She was deep inside her mind then, probably thinking about Gavroche or her parents. He couldn't even hope that she was thinking about him.

When he returned with a giant cup of coffee for her (and one for himself), she had been so happy that she had leaned over and kissed him on the cheek, holding the cup in both hands under her nose as though its aroma was the only thing keeping her alive. He looked at her mouth as she sipped, envying the cup that received her kiss and wishing that it could be him waking up her sleepy lips, not a plastic lid. He saw Azelma share a look with Montparnasse in the rear view mirror.

Now, they were in the ICU, Azelma and Eponine propped on the bed on either side of the young boy, each holding one of his hands. Enjolras sat behind Eponine on the bed, one hand on the boy's leg, the other on Eponine's hip. Montparnasse sat in the bedside chair.

They were waiting for the doctor to come in to give them more news, though they weren't sure how long it would take.

No one spoke much, giving Enjolras time to reflect on his dream. It had highly disturbed him, in the way that only dreams could.

He hoped that it had been caused by the violent attack on Gavroche, and was not his mind trying to tell him that it didn't think the boy would survive. Gavroche's life was just as miserable as Eponine's, and he deserved a chance to do something with himself just as much as Enjolras and all of his friends.

But to watch Eponine die, then all of his friends, and to know that he himself was going to fall was troubling, even if it were only a dream. He couldn't get the image of Eponine's crumpled, broken body lying alone against the wall. He hoped that if he were going to die in the dream that his death might have been next to hers, so that she wouldn't have been alone.

But what was the point in thinking about any of this? It was just a dream. Enjolras tried to put it out of his mind.

The day was a lot of sitting and waiting. A social worker came by to check in on the situation – he and Eponine had explained how Gavroche had gotten shot; he showed the woman the picture of Eponine's red cheek where her father had hit her, and both she and Azelma had attested to their parents' physical and emotional abuse. Azelma got very emotional when she talked, especially when she told them how her father's gang was always around, making Enjolras wonder if her father's friends had sexually abused her. The thought made his stomach turn with pity and disgust. Eponine, of course, remained like stone through the whole ordeal.

Eponine told the woman that she wanted Gavroche taken from her parents, and that rather than putting him in foster care she would take him and begin the process for getting custody of him. The social worker had little to say of everything, just that someone would go down to the Thénardier residence to begin an investigation, and that when Gavroche woke up she would be back to talk with him.

The doctor stopped in as well, but had little to say other than that they were optimistic that Gavroche would fully recover and that hopefully they would be able to bring him out of the coma in the next few days.

* * *

When they returned home that night, Combeferre, Bahorel, and Joly were there with Courfeyrac, Grantaire, and Clémence. Grantaire had texted Enjolras just before they left the hospital, asking what time they would be back and if they wanted any takeout; he had texted back with their orders.

Enjolras was surprised by how enthusiastically Eponine took to being social. She answered their concerned questions as best she could and told Courfeyrac and Grantaire that she was trying to get temporary custody of Gavroche (joking with Grantaire that he would have to get his shit together more than anyone else). When the Chinese food arrived, Eponine eagerly wolfed it down. Enjolras realized she hadn't eaten all day.

When he went to the kitchen to get himself and Eponine fresh beers, Courfeyrac followed, carrying an armful of garbage and leftovers.

"How's she doing _really?_" Courfeyrac inquired quietly, busying himself with putting cartons in the fridge. They heard Eponine laughing at one of Bahorel's jokes louder than anyone else in the living room.

Enjolras shrugged. "As well as can be expected, I suppose. She was a mess last night, though." He didn't need to add that he was extremely suspicious of her attitude right now, because Courfeyrac's expression indicated that he felt the same; she looked tired, in Enjolras' opinion, but each time he made eye contact with her, she gazed at him with veiled eyes and a guarded face. Suddenly, in front of their friends and her sister, she was the old Eponine again. It worried him more than he could say.

"I'm glad you two are speaking again, although I'm sorry it's under these circumstances. But I think she's right to try and get custody of him here. She's lucky to have you to help with that. R and I will do what we can, of course, but we aren't lawyers. Or her boyfriend…."

"I'm not her boyfriend, Courfeyrac," Enjolras muttered seriously.

"Well I know this all only just happened, but you switched into boyfriend mode pretty damn quickly. And what's even crazier, she let you. I've known Eponine for years, just like you, but sometimes I look at her and it's like I only met her earlier that day, like I don't even know her at all. But that's not the case with you, man. She let you in. You probably know her better than anyone else in her life, you know?"

Enjolras grunted noncommittally. "Some days I don't know her either. And we're still in the weeds… When I think about what will happen after this, after Gavroche – I hope – gets better, I don't know. She told me last night that everyone figured it out over the summer, even Cosette and Marius, that they've all known about us for a while, and she mentioned that we wouldn't need to 'sneak around anymore.'"

Courfeyrac chuckled. "She wants it, Enj," he joked, clapping his friend on the shoulder.

Enjolras just regarded him apprehensively.

"But you don't, do you?" Courfeyrac questioned softly, carefully reading Enjolras' face. It was more of a statement than a question. "You're too in love with her to keep this up – _oh, I knew it_," he hissed victoriously.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Enjolras mumbled. His cheeks actually felt a little hot, which was possibly even more humiliating than this conversation.

"Well, don't worry, man" Courfeyrac said, grabbing himself a beer from the fridge. "We have to get her through all of this with Gavroche first. Then we'll tackle her feelings for you."

Enjolras surveyed Courfeyrac's face; it was wrought with worry. He knew how fond Courfeyrac was of Gavroche, how they had such a special connection. Clémence had mentioned that when they received the news of Gavroche's condition, he had gone into a panic and had been nigh on inconsolable.

"But if it makes you feel any better, Clémence insists that Eponine is crazy about you, and that she's just confused and scared. If it were just about the sex, she would've found someone else by now – hell, most guys want exactly what her deal was with you. She could've found it anywhere. But she hasn't been with anyone since you two fought, and Clémence says she's been incredibly broken up about it."

Enjolras knew that Eponine had been upset about their fight, but he hadn't known that she was _that_ upset.

Courfeyrac winked and quirked a half smile at him before going back to their friends in the living room. Enjolras followed after taking half a moment to compose himself.

Eponine caught his eye as he was walking in; her face was unreadable, but when he handed her and settled down next to her on the floor she smiled warmly. Their knees were touching, and he was suddenly hyper aware of how close she was to him. He could practically feel the sparks flying between their shoulders.

He looked up to see both Courfeyrac and Clémence watching them.

* * *

They went back to the hospital the next day, but nothing much had changed. Eponine had to go to work that night, and Enjolras had work and class the next day, so their visit was much shorter, though they still spent most of the day there, sitting with the unconscious boy.

Enjolras noticed that while Azelma and even Montparnasse chattered at Gavroche, and while Eponine would say things here and there, she remained largely quiet. Her shoulders were drooping the whole day, and when he did see her face she seemed so overcome with sadness. He would take her hand in those moments, afraid that if he didn't she might shatter into a million pieces. She was so very fragile.

They had shared her bed again the night before, but they did not interact in any way as they had the previous one. In fact, she fell asleep right away, though Enjolras, who had grown used to the sound of her sleeping after all those months together, suspected that she had only been pretending in order to avoid speaking to him.

He couldn't deny that it hurt a bit, but he also knew that pushing her would not help even a little. He couldn't hold it against her, anyway, considering how utterly breakable she was these days.

They dropped off Azelma and Montparnasse at the latter's small apartment on their way home, and, after running home so Eponine could change, he took her to work before returning Joly's car.

Enjolras was still awake when she came in, moving slowly and looking more tired than he thought he had ever seen her, but she had little to say.

She was shutting down.

When she crawled into bed with him that night, back in his room, she said almost nothing to him before very quickly dropping off to sleep.

* * *

The whole next day at work and in his evening class were torturous, and when he was finally free, he went straight to the hospital without even bothering to go home and change.

Eponine was there alone, sitting cross-legged on Gavroche's bed, holding one of his hands. She didn't even notice him when he first arrived; there was a far-off look on her face as she stared off into the distance, and she was completely oblivious to the world.

He gently laid a hand on her shoulder, and she started, looking around wildly. She seemed to deflate a bit when she saw it was he.

"How are you?" he asked, unable to hide the concern in his voice.

She shrugged. "My parents were here earlier," she commented vaguely, still sounding miles and miles away.

"Are you alright?" he asked urgently.

"No, no, I'm fine," she reassured him, flashing a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "I went and got the orderly, who came in with the social worker. She got to see – well, it only takes a pair of eyes to see what my parents are. And you don't need to see much, at that. I had them thrown out."

He nodded, silent for a moment, leaning against the windowsill with his arms folded against his chest and ankles crossed. "Eponine –," he started, but was cut off by the arrival of Dr. Brevet.

"Good evening," he said, nodding at them with a smile. He pulled out Gavroche's chart, looking it over carefully, before looking up at Eponine and smiling more widely at her. "He's doing great, Mademoiselle. I think that, so long as nothing changes over night, we'll move him into a room tomorrow and see about waking him up tomorrow evening when you can be here."

"Really?" Eponine exclaimed, perking up. Enjolras unraveled himself as well, a hopeful half-smile breaking out on his face. She reached out to her side, towards him, without looking. Without a second thought, he laced his fingers through hers. She was holding him tightly, a gesture which he returned.

The doctor talked to them for a few moments more before taking his leave. As soon as he had cleared the room, Eponine launched herself off the bed and into Enjolras' arms. She began to cry against his chest. He felt tears of his own pricking.

She was done almost as soon as she began, though, and although she was visibly happier, he could see her shutting down before his eyes. She jokingly apologized for crying into his "lawyer clothes," as she endearingly called them, and smoothed her hands over his shoulders as though she were a tailor before severing the contact between them.

Before they left, she planted a tender kiss on Gavroche's forehead; Enjolras smoothed the boy's hair.

* * *

Courfeyrac insisted on accompanying them to the hospital to be there when Gavroche was brought out of the coma. No one argued, least of all Eponine, as Gavroche had always followed Courfeyrac around as though he were some sort of superhero. Montparnasse, however, was working, and did not come along.

Joly drove them, but when they arrived at the hospital, they were shocked to find the rest of their friends already there in the lobby – Marius and Cosette, Combeferre, Feuilly, Grantaire, Jehan, Bahorel, Musichetta, and Bossuet.

"We wanted to all be in the room to surprise him when he wakes up," Combeferre told her, "But the staff said no. So after he's awake, we're going to come and visit a few at a time." He hugged her then, and Azelma too, and told them to be strong.

In the elevator on the way up, Eponine slid her hand into Enjolras'. If Courfeyrac or Azelma noticed, neither said anything.

It was a while before Gavroche woke up, but when he finally did open his eyes, the first things he saw were his sisters.

He was groggy, very confused and muddled, and was heavily drugged. He had no idea where he was or why he was there, but he smiled when he spotted Enjolras, and his smile grew even bigger when he saw Courfeyrac.

The others were eventually permitted to come up one or two at a time, most of them bringing him little gifts, but only staying for a few minutes.

Although it was obvious that the poor kid was out of it and really had no idea what was going on, he seemed thrilled to see all of Eponine's friends.

When it was time to go, she left him last, stroking his head and kissing him on the forehead, reminding him that she loved him and telling him to get some sleep.

* * *

I hope you all hate me a little less after this. But things are looking up! Hopefully they'll be looking up for our stubborn couple soon too!

A bientôt!


	6. Chapter 6

Hi guys.

I'm sorry for keeping you waiting for such a long time. I know it's uncharacteristic of me, but I'm not abandoning the story, I promise! This week I had to defend my thesis (I passed with honors!), then I got really drunk with my friends to celebrate, and I've been busy ever since.

However, the main reason for taking so long to post was because this chapter was incredibly difficult for me to write. I had really, really bad writer's block and I just couldn't figure it out. But I did, I got something that I'm pretty happy with. Not 100%, but I'm never 100% happy with anything I write. It's better that way, I think.

On that note, I have to say that I'm dedicating this chapter to my lovely friend Inge (textsfromumbridge on tumblr, go follow her everyone), aka ThinksInWords. This chapter would not have gone up without her, and because of such, I'm dedicating it to her. (Dear Inge, sorry that you get THIS chapter, of all of them! =P).

To make up for my absence, this one is extra long. Also, I think you all might be pretty ok with what happens in it.

As always, thanks to everyone for the reviews/follows/favorites. You guys are incredible and I heart you and there are just so many feels.

So. Here we go.

**Disclaimer:** Still crying.

* * *

Eponine was there every day with Gavroche, as was Azelma, though she usually was long gone by the time her older sister arrived. Enjolras met her there when he was out of work and class, and would always chat extensively with Gavroche before leaving. He was much clearer, even on the second day, and seemed to be improving little by little with each passing hour.

Gavroche told him that the rest of their friends stopped in as they could to visit and bring him little gifts – books, magazines, games. He was excited to get out.

A few days later, Eponine met with the social worker, who had gone to speak with Gavroche. She granted Eponine temporary company, informing her that when she filed the papers to become his permanent guardian, someone would come and investigate what Gavroche's long-term situation would be.

That night, Eponine sat down with Enjolras, Grantaire, Courfeyrac, and Clémence.

"They're going to come and investigate the place before they let him move in with us," she said, taking a bite from an apple. "I don't know how they'll feel about the fact that I'm 24 and live with three men, but if I can prove to them that we have our shit together, maybe they'll be ok with it."

"Where will he sleep?" asked Clémence.

Eponine glanced at Enjolras. "Well, we have the pullout here in the living room, but I don't think that's acceptable for a teenage boy who needs privacy and rest and a stable environment. It's fine for when he comes to visit, and honestly I think he'd probably be fine if that _was_ the situation, but they won't care. He needs his own space. We were thinking that maybe we could turn the office into his room? I know you boys like to go in there to do some work, but the desk and the shelves could stay. There's that small closet, and I could go get a bed and a dresser to put in there for him. It'd be a little tight and you all would lose some space, but at least he would have his own room," she suggested. The office was a fairly small room, and Enjolras especially often would shut himself in there to study and to write.

Grantaire, already a little drunk, loudly suggested, "You two haven't slept a night apart since this happened, and we all know you've been fucking all year. Why not just move into one room together and give Gav the other one? That way you don't have to buy any new furniture, he'll have a bigger space, and we won't lose our study area."

It was deadly quiet – save for Grantaire's guffaws – and palpably awkward. Enjolras felt himself flush, from his forehead to his ears to his chin and the whole way down his neck. He couldn't bring himself to look at any of them, especially Eponine, though out of the corner of his eye he could see a blushed cheek.

She stood up after a moment, rather angrily, and snapped, "You better sober the _fuck_ up, R, and get that booze out of here. I'll kill you if you're the reason my brother is sent back to my parents or put in foster care," before stomping off into her bedroom and slamming the door.

Enjolras, equally as irritated, waited for a moment. Then he got up and followed her without a word to the others – who cared? Their history was now _very_ much out in the open. He could go talk to her after something like that without needing to worry about what the others might think.

He knocked softly and entered without waiting for an invitation.

Eponine was sitting on the edge of her bed, head in her hands.

He shut the door behind him and quietly asked, "You ok, Ep?"

She sighed. "No. No, I'm really not ok. That fucking jackass' alcoholism is going to completely ruin any chance that I have to help my brother."

Enjolras sat down next to her, consciously leaving a few inches of space between them. He could feel the anger and humiliation radiating off of her.

"Oh come on, perhaps it was in poor taste, but he was just being Grantaire. Besides, I suggested the same thing at the hospital to you when Gav was brought in, and you laughed."

She glared at him. "That's because it's _you_."

He sighed. "We'll keep him in check, Courfeyrac and I. Don't worry about him, you worry about Gavroche."

"I have to worry about him. I love him to death, I really do, but if he fucks this up, so help me I'll –."

"_Eponine_," Enjolras said, taking her hand. "Stop. It will all work out. We'll figure something out."

She turned to look at him. Suddenly the anger was gone, replaced by genuine anxiety and even a little fear on her face.

"You think so?" she asked, chewing her lip unconsciously.

He brushed aside a lock of her hair, tucking it meticulously behind her ear. Unable to help himself, he leaned forward, brushing his lips beneath her earlobe. She did not pull away, just sucked in a breath. Her hand twitched in his.

"I know so," he whispered against her neck. He planted slow kisses down to the hollow of her collarbone. His hand was tangled in the hair at the nape of her neck, and she was leaning her head back, exposing further to him her taught skin.

Enjolras shifted, his free hand finding its way to her thigh. One of her hands was gripping his upper arm, the other was on his chest.

He left a trail of kisses along the length of her jaw, driving her crazy.

He teased her several times, taking away absurd amounts of pleasure when she moaned quietly or gasped or even growled in frustration, smiling against her neck when she begged him to kiss her lips.

He took his time to get there, slowly making his way back up her neck, his fingers squeezing her thigh tightly. He was hoping to give her an even bigger hickey than the one she had received at the wedding. When he nipped her neck, she clenched his shoulders so tightly and gasped so audibly that he couldn't help but laugh against her. He was glad that he could hear the TV out in the living room, and found himself wondering in the back of his mind if someone had turned it on to drown them out, knowing what would probably happen.

Enjolras found his way to her mouth, kissing each corner just to frustrate her more before finally, _finally_, covering her lips with his own.

In that moment, the world might as well have stopped spinning. It seemed to last for years, that slow kiss; they were practically frozen there, soft lips on soft lips, noses brushing. He was kissing her like for _once_ he was the sea and _she_ was the shore, ebbing and flowing, pulling away and then rushing back towards her; flat, rolling swells, calm and tranquil and serene.

Then suddenly, she was the ocean again, she was curling and crashing waves, washing over him, and she was surrounding him like the violent breeze during an angry storm.

She tasted like salt and apples.

Enjolras' hand was under her shirt before he even realized that Eponine had somehow managed to pull his own off without him even noticing. Her hands were roaming over his bare skin, just as his were doing with hers.

An instant later, her shirt was off, and he was kissing down her neck again, down her chest, hands running over the cups of her bra and around to the back, pulling apart the clasp. He slid it off her and tossed it across the room, massaging and kissing her chest. Her nipples were hard against his tongue and his palms.

They stood up long enough to yank off each other's pants before falling back onto her bed.

She was clinging to Enjolras, kissing him urgently, as though her very life depended on it.

His knee was between her thighs as he knelt over her, pressed hard up against the junction between her legs. Eponine groaned into his mouth, crawling up her bed and pulling him along with her lips.

He replaced his knee with his hand, feeling how damp she already was even through her underwear. He settled on top of her then, feeling himself throb against her as he kissed her neck, her collarbone, her chest. She squirmed beneath him, wanting him.

They rolled over and suddenly she was straddling him, kneeling over him and kissing the length of his torso. She looked up at him mischievously as she pulled off his boxers. He groaned, his hand knotting into a fist in her hair.

When they found themselves face to face again a short time later, he flipped her over, then sat back on his ankles. One of her legs was between his, the other was bent. He kissed her knee, then down her thigh, stopping just far enough up to make her wriggle a bit, then he did the same with the other.

Enjolras kissed her lips again then, reaching down to slide off her underwear and throw them aside. Her arms were wrapped around him, and he was propped up on one of his elbows, grinning against her mouth as his free hand slid down her body and began to explore her. Eponine gasped against his lips, digging her nails just a bit into his back.

She was talking, he realized. No, she was _begging_. "Please, _please_," she was saying against his lips.

But he did not give in to her, instead kissing his way down the length of her body and paying attention to the places he had missed when he had earlier kissed her thighs.

When he looked up, she was biting her finger to keep from crying out and gripping the sheets with her other hand. She let her hand go from between her teeth, eagerly allowing Enjolras to replace its presence with his lips. She placed the unoccupied hand on his neck, and her other had found its way to his upper arm.

He took advantage of her distraction to do it them. She gasped against his mouth, and he against hers, as they began; he had surprised her, he was delighted to realize, and she had momentarily frozen.

Then she writhed beneath him, just as he did on top of her, a slick sheen of sweat between their bodies.

She was moaning into Enjolras' neck, into his shoulders, into his mouth. Eponine was vaguely aware that her fingernails were digging deep into his back, and she had to gasp multiple times, begging him to slow down to stave off her moment.

It didn't help, though he proved to be so on his game tonight – or maybe it had just been so long? – that she let go several more times.

She wasn't aware that she was whispering in his ear until he stopped. Confusion and anger filled her for a moment.

_Fuck._

Had it happened again? Dread replaced the frustration. Had she said Marius' name again? She had hardly _thought_ of him for the last month, even before everything that had happened. Why would she be saying his name now?

"I'm sorry," she heard herself plead. "I didn't mean it, I –."

She stopped when she saw his face. His eyes were filled with lust, of course, half-lidded and dark as usual, but there was something else in them. It was something fierce, something she didn't recognize. He was breathing heavily against her. She was suddenly afraid; not for her safety, but for what she had done. Their fight last time this had happened was awful. Somehow she knew that if she had made the same mistake again, she would lose him and there would be no winning him back.

But instead of pulling out or getting angry, he tenderly stroked her sweat-soaked hair; she was surprised by how gentle it was, especially after how _rough_ he was being with her tonight.

"Say my name again," he whispered hoarsely.

His name? She had said his name? Eponine felt her face break into a devious smile as she tangled a hand in his blonde locks.

"_Enjolras_," she hissed. "Enjolra–," but before she could get out that last syllable, his hips bucked into her, and with this renewed gusto she was soon gasping his name (though involuntarily) as he brought her to the edge again.

Finally, and simultaneously, they collapsed, both completely exhausted and breathing hard and utterly satisfied.

It was the best he'd ever been, and not just because it had been a while for both of them. No, something was different tonight, though Eponine could hardly put her finger on it. But this rejuvenated and increased chemistry between them was exactly that – between _them_. She knew that something was happening if she wasn't even aware of Marius' existence, not like she used to be, not even at _all_, anymore. She hadn't thought of him even once, in fact the only man she could think of at all was Enjolras. It was an odd feeling, an odd realization, but, as she stared into those bright blue eyes of his, it was liberating.

_I'm over Marius_.

Was it thanks to Enjolras?

* * *

A few days later, Eponine found herself in front of her parents' rundown hotel, a rented moving van parked behind her. She had insisted on driving there (and had a ton of fun doing it), but was promptly banned from driving back to the apartment by Combeferre and Enjolras, who were riding with her. Apparently they didn't like her driving.

Joly pulled up in his car behind them, Bossuet, Courfeyrac, and Feuilly with him, ready for the hard labor. Eponine had decided that, instead of going and buying new furniture for Gavroche, they would just come and get his own furniture and move it up into the den. Then he would have his own things, and would _really_ have no reason to come back here.

She had been fairly at ease on the drive over (though she seldom drove, it was always a very relaxing, distracting activity for her), but now standing in front of the building, staring at its dirty, broken-down façade, she felt only trepidation. The boys were laughing behind her, but they sounded so far away.

Eponine rarely came here anymore, and she saw her parents even less. But it was by her own design; generally, if she had to come by, it was to pick Gavroche up or drop him off (Joly was kind enough to drive her little brother around when he could), and she hadn't been inside in years. In fact, she probably hadn't set foot inside the place since she left for college. She had lived in campus housing the only year she had gone, had gone home with Musichetta for the holidays, and after dropping out had lived on her own before moving in with the boys.

The rooms in the hotel were rented not by tourists, but by the dregs of society: drug dealers, sex offenders, thieves. They checked in, and never left. There was a small common area with a bar and some gaming tables, and it was there her parents spent most of their time, finding ways to cheat people out of money, and causing problems with for the equally-as-squirrelly neighborhood around them with their troupe of scum.

It was a toxic environment to grow up in, and being here brought back a flood of memories of the years of misery and abuse she had undergone.

What upset her more was that now her friends, whose help she desperately needed for Gavroche's sake, would see what her life used to be, what she had grown up in. She would be lying if she tried to say that she hadn't worked extremely hard throughout her friendship with them all to hide this place, her past, from them. And now it was all about to be undone. They would look at her with sympathy, with regret. They would walk on eggshells around her, ask her if she ever wanted to talk about it, even press her for details. She couldn't take them pitying her; she took care of herself, and she didn't need anyone's help. She didn't want things to change between them.

A hand squeezed her shoulder. Eponine snapped out of her reverie, turning to find Courfeyrac smiling encouragingly at her. She nodded, and turned around to look at her friends.

They were goofing around, as they were wont to do. It made her smile. Until she locked eyes with Enjolras.

He was watching her, studying her carefully, as though she were one of his law textbooks. Irritation suddenly bubbled through her. _This_ was what came from opening up to someone. _They treat you like you're a volcano, about to erupt at any moment._ Well, Eponine Jondrette was no sentimental fool.

She wasn't only irritated at his concern for her; after they had slept together the other night, she had woken the next morning to his absence, and he had been cold and awkward around her ever since. She wondered what she had done this time.

Sometimes, Enjolras acted like a bigger woman than she was. Sometimes, she thought she was the man in their – whatever it was.

Joly began complaining about the cold, and that he had a weak constitution and surely would catch something.

"How are you going to be a doctor, if you're so afraid of getting sick all the time? Isn't the point of being a doctor to help people that are sick? Generally that means you have to be around them, and breathe their _germy air_," Bossuet chided, finishing the sentence as though he were some sort of horror movie monster. They started bickering, earning laughs from the others.

Eponine looked at Enjolras, who was still carefully observing her. She couldn't help but roll her eyes animatedly and purposefully stomp off towards the entrance.

She took a deep breath as she walked inside, trying to calm herself. Her parents were nowhere to be found. Maybe they were out. Without waiting for them to show up, she began ascending the stairs up towards the rooms she had grown up in.

When she walked inside the Thénardier apartment, it was even worse than she remembered it. It was filthy – trash everywhere, clothes strewn about, the kitchen was dingy and dirty. There was a baseball-sized spider web crack in the TV, and a rather putrid smell seemed to be floating towards them from the refrigerator.

Eponine could feel her cheeks burning with shame. How would she face her friends after _this?_ They had all grown up in solidly middle class families – and those were the poorest among them, but they were all quite wealthy, especially by her standards. How would she be able to look at them again, knowing that they knew where she came from and just how bad it was?

The shame was immediately replaced by a wave of overwhelming guilt. She had mostly taken care of the place when she lived there, and when she left, she supposed she had more or less _abandoned_ Azelma and Gavroche. How could she have been so selfish, to never come home and check that they were all right? No wonder her relationship with Azelma was so strained.

Eponine cleared her throat purposefully, and stormed off down the short hallway, kicking aside trash and clothes as she went. She heard the boys follow behind her.

The apartment was tiny – a kitchen and living room together, a small bathroom, two bedrooms, and a very small spare room that looked as though it would have been an office. That had been Gavroche's bedroom – when he was born, she and Azelma were forced to move in together, and shared until Eponine went to school. When Azelma moved out, Gavroche had moved into their old room, and that was where Eponine led the boys.

None of them made any comments, though whether it was because they knew her too well or because they saw the stony look on her face, she wasn't sure. Instead, she just began packing up Gavroche's few things, and pointing out to the boys what was going.

Eventually, their easy banter began to pick up again, which was a relief for Eponine. Joly and Bossuet were arguing, as usual, Feuilly was laughing, Courfeyrac was making fun of them, and Combeferre was bossing them around. Normally that job was saved for Enjolras, but seeing as he was being exceptionally quiet and staying extremely close to Eponine, it fell to Combeferre to give directions.

It was fairly quick work. The only furniture in the room was Gavroche's bed and a dresser, besides a small table and chair he used as a desk. Still, Eponine carefully packed up the boy's books – most of which she had given him – his posters, his CDs, his ancient guitar, his skateboard, and whatever other knick-knacks there were, Enjolras cautiously helping her.

The boys had taken the dresser down to the truck (they simply removed the drawers and took it all down separately) and were busy dismantling the bed when Eponine's parents arrived.

"What the _fuck_ is going on in here?" her father's livid voice shouted from just inside the apartment door.

Eponine felt her face blanch. The boys all froze and looked at her.

Thénardier stormed down the hall, followed by his wife. His eyes swept over the boys before settling on his eldest daughter. They seemed to be black with rage.

_"What the fuck do you think you're doing?"_

Eponine very slowly, very calmly, stood up from the box she was packing and wiped her hands on her jeans. Then she looked her father square in the face, chin held up in high defiance, and she coolly told him, "I'm moving Gavroche's things to my apartment. See, I was granted temporary custody when he gets out of the hospital, which by now you should know."

"You little bitch, Eponine," her mother snapped. "I'm his goddamn mum, you've got no right coming into my fucking house and take him away."

Eponine just regarded her coolly. "Actually, I do. That social worker that stopped by to respond to my complaint about you? Well she didn't seem to like the conditions that Gavroche was living in. And I don't blame her – seriously, was I the last one to clean this place? That was going on seven years ago –."

"Get the _fuck_ out of my house," Thénardier spat. "You ain't no daughter of mine."

"Nor do I want to be. These are Gav's things, so he's getting them. You're not permitted to see him anymore, and before too long I'll be his legal guardian, and I will do my damnedest to make sure that he never sees either of you again," she said evenly. She had expected to be stressed when she finally encountered them, but instead she just felt numb.

Her father strode across the room, hand balled into a fist at his side. Eponine flinched instinctively as he raised his arm, but then Courfeyrac was in front of her, and Combeferre had grabbed Thénardier's raised arm. All the boys were up, and they were angry.

"I recommend that you go down to the bar and pour yourselves some drinks while we finish up here. Eponine has indicated that you like to start drinking rather early, so it shouldn't be too out of the ordinary for you. We'll be out of your… _home_ soon, but until then I suggest you stay far away from Eponine." She turned to look at Enjolras, the only one who had met her parents before, standing next to her. He was bright and angry and fierce standing there in front of her, looking as though he would be willing to start a war on her behalf, standing there in all his golden fury. Part terrible warrior, part guardian angel. In spite of herself, and in spite of the situation, Eponine felt her stomach flutter.

Thénardier was no fool – he was more than outmatched by these boys. So he wrenched his arm free from Combeferre's grasp, and grabbed hold of Eponine's upper arm (she had stepped around Courfeyrac and Enjolras to face her parents), wrenching her close to him. He pointed at her with the other hand, only centimeters from her face, and snarled, "You ever come back here, little bitch, and I'll kill ya myself."

The boys – all of them – had immediately started forward when he grabbed her, but he had released her before anyone could do anything about it. Still, her only response was to spit in his face. Thénardier lunged at her then, but Combeferre and Bossuet were quicker, stopping him before he could even take a step.

They dragged him yelling and screaming from Gavroche's room, his wife stomping away after them.

When Enjolras looked at Eponine, she had turned to the window, but was rubbing her hands together agitatedly. He approached her, gently brushing his hand against the small of her back. "You ok?" he asked, taking her arm at the elbow and gently lifting it for inspection. Red fingerprints lay like burns in her skin. He brushed the marks lightly, murmuring, "These are probably going to bruise."

Eponine just wrenched her arm out of his gentle grasp. "I've had worse," she snapped, though her face was stony and unreadable.

Joly, Feuilly, and Courfeyrac were watching her with concern, but she couldn't bear to meet their eyes, so she busied herself in packing up the last of a box. However when Bossuet and Combeferre returned and began questioning her, she held up a hand to silence them, and whispered a simple, _"Thanks,"_ looking around at each of them. She felt incredibly awkward, though they all just regarded her with worry.

It was silent for a few long moments, before Courfeyrac suddenly burst out, "Ep, did you _see_ your dad's face when you hocked that loogie at him?" He was laughing.

"It was _not_ a loogie," was her dignified response, though her trademark half-smile lit up her face.

And with that, the tension dissipated. A short time later, they were all wrapped back up in their heavy coats, and the truck was packed, save one last box that Feuilly was carrying out. The others had waited outside, though Eponine and Enjolras had accompanied him back up to Gavroche's room. Enjolras waited for her patiently as she stared darkly around the apartment.

Without a word, she left her childhood home. They descended the staircase, and at the bottom, just before the rundown building's front door, Eponine stopped, having caught the eye of her mother in the next room. She was holding a bag of frozen peas up to Thénardier's eye, and glared at her eldest child with an expression that Enjolras felt bordered on hateful.

He snaked his arm around Eponine's waist, trying to be comforting, as she jutted her chin out ostensibly at her mother. "See you in Hell, mom," she murmured, then twisted out of Enjolras' grasp and swept out the door. Enjolras took a moment to glare at the lowlifes before him, and followed her, slamming the door behind him.

On the ride back, it was just he and Eponine in the moving van. Courfeyrac had lamely excused himself to Joly's car, not even trying to be sneaky about giving his friends some alone time.

Twilight had fallen, and there was a ton of traffic, so the ride home was a slow one. Eponine was curled into a ball in the passenger's seat, staring out the window.

Enjolras awkwardly cleared his throat. "I'm glad Gavroche will be out of the hospital in time for Christmas. We'll have to go all out with the decorations this year. Not that we don't always do it up, anyway." He was staring at the lights that had been put up all around them. Even though Christmas was still several weeks away, the entire city was already festively decked out and completely in the Christmas spirit.

Eponine rounded on him. "What the _hell_ is your problem, Enjolras?"

He glanced at her, but was not exactly surprised. The tension between them the last few days had been tangible, and it was his fault. He had barely spoken to her since they… since the other night.

"Eponine –."

_"No,"_ she snapped. "You have been Mr. Supportive and Mr. Boyfriend for the last couple weeks. But you didn't talk to me for a few _months_ before that. And now that we're finally getting past that, you suddenly give me the cold shoulder again. I have enough on my plate without having to figure out what the fuck is going on in your head."

"Eponine, I don't know if right now is really the time to talk about this, especially with what you just went through with your parents." The truth was, he didn't know what his problem was. He had been so ecstatic to be back together with her all this time, to have her really _need_ him for once. But then the other night….

Well, they had made love. That was the only way to put it. It wasn't how it used to be, it wasn't the sex they used to have. And when he had awoken the next morning to find her wrapped tightly in his arms, her face devoid of its usual concern and nestled against his neck, he had felt so overwhelmingly in _love_ with her that the knowledge that she didn't feel the same way was suddenly so much more than he could bear. So he had extricated himself from her side, feeling guilty when she stirred and frowned in her sleep, reaching out in the now-empty spot he had left behind, and he had gone back to his own room.

Was this what her feelings for Marius' had been like? Completely overwhelming and totally all encompassing? He had never even really had a full-blown crush on a girl before Eponine, much less been in _love_.

"Now's the perfect time," she snapped. "We're stuck in traffic and we're alone together. Now be honest with me, what's going on with you? Why all the weirdness all of a sudden?" she demanded.

He sighed, mussing his hair with his hand out of frustration. Finally, he asked, "What happened between us the other night?"

Eponine was quiet for a moment, regarding him a tad suspiciously. Finally, she shrugged and said, "We fucked. For the first in _months_, I might add," she grumbled, crossing her arms.

Enjolras almost smiled. But instead, he quietly asked, "Was that all it was? Just us screwing around again? Using each other to get our kicks and then continuing on with our lives?"

She was looking at him with confusion, measuring him up with her eyes. He could see her doing it from the corner of his own. How could she _still_ not understand?

He thought for a moment that she would dance around the subject like she usually did, feigning ignorance and innocence. But this time, she didn't. This time, she was mature enough to actually give him an honest answer.

"No," she murmured. She was quiet for a long while, staring out the window. Just when he thought he would have to break the silence, she asked exasperatedly, "When did this all get so _complicated?"_

She was grinning at him, he realized, and he couldn't help but smile back. He was about to come up with an answer when they both realized they had turned onto their block. Joly had already parked in front of the apartment building, and now Jehan and Grantaire were standing with them, waiting to help move Gavroche's things in.

* * *

Later that night, they all sat around the apartment together, drinking beers, eating takeout from the Musain, and chatting. Marius, Cosette, and Musichetta had come over to help them unpack Gavroche's things, and Eponine had even called Azelma and Montparnasse, who arrived in time to help Eponine hang Gavroche's posters around the little office.

Now, they were all squished into the living room– on the couch and recliners, on kitchen chairs they had carried in, on the floor, against the wall. Eponine was sipping a beer, her head resting on Grantaire's shoulder (she had been quick to forgive him for his comments the other night).

She couldn't help but study Enjolras, sitting on the floor between Courfeyrac and Bossuet, deep in conversation with them, arms loosely around his knees and a beer sitting on the floor in front of him.

He was right, things between them were different. It had been changing a lot, of course, but now whatever they had went beyond being friends with benefits and beyond even the fight they had over her feelings for Marius. No, something had happened in between Gavroche's accident and now, just in those few short weeks. And the other night, well there had been an entirely new _energy_ between them. It wasn't just for fun or because he was stressed or she was angry or whatever; no, it was an entirely new dynamic.

Were things different because of Gavroche, because of all the stress she'd been under? No, she knew it went deeper than that. She had accepted Enjolras' comfort, his help. She had let him see her come undone, turned inside out, no longer the strong and independent woman who needed no one.

Eponine knew that she wouldn't have been able to deal with the whole situation had Enjolras not been there for her. He had taken charge, had been her strength, had taken care of her. It was he who had flipped her right-side-up again. It was he who had remade her whole.

He had seen the monsters that swam deep in the sea that was her soul; he had seen the demons that she couldn't drown. There was so much more down there in those depths, in the corners of her mind and the recesses of her subconscious, than he could ever know; nevertheless, he had scratched the surface of it all and had kept her afloat.

_Clémence is right; he probably has feelings for me._ The thought didn't displease her. Nor did it surprise her. After the other night, well, it wasn't really a question anymore of whether or not he liked her. And he had acted every bit the boyfriend through the ordeal with Gavroche. And people didn't just _do_ shit like that – sure, they are as helpful as possible, as the others had been, but they certainly do not act like her boyfriend and shower with her and wash her hair and hold her at night in while she cries in his arms – unless they care deeply for the other person.

Maybe _that's_ why he had gotten so mad at the wedding. Maybe he had feelings for her then and she had been too stubborn and too blind to realize it. It certainly made sense, given his reaction. And it even made his current attitude more understandable. Sort of.

* * *

That night, Eponine snuck into his room. He was passed out, snoring lightly, and did not even twitch when she crawled onto the bed and sat cross-legged next to him. Nor did he wake when she poked him.

Enjolras did, however, wake up when she picked up a free pillow and smacked him with it.

"What do you want, Eponine?" he grumbled groggily, rolling over to look at her through bleary eyes.

"I can't sleep until we finish our conversation," she replied matter-of-factly.

"What conversation? Go back to bed…." He rolled back over.

She hit him with the pillow again.

"Oh for fuck's sake, Eponine, it's, like, three in the morning. I have work tomorrow, and class," he informed her, sitting up. The blankets slipped from his shoulders, and Eponine found herself momentarily distracted by the fact that he hadn't worn a shirt to bed.

Enjolras just looked so _good_ without clothes on.

"I just – we need to talk," she said, tearing her eyes away from his body.

"At three a.m.?" he asked exasperatedly.

"Yes."

He ran his hand through his hair and rubbed his eyes. "Fine," he snapped, turning on his bedside lamp.

"My goodness, you certainly _are_ grouchy late at night, aren't you? Usually you're much more excited when I surprise you in bed," she teased.

"Usually you're naked," he retorted, earning a laugh from Eponine.

But she sobered quickly. "We were talking earlier about what's changed, what's gotten so complicated here."

"So we were," he agreed, rather grimly. "What of it?"

"Well…. Are you still mad at me? About Marius, I mean?"

Even in the dark, she could see that he was a little surprised.

Enjolras seemed to be choosing his words carefully. Finally, he told her, "I'm mad about a lot of things, Eponine."

When he didn't continue, she asked, "What does that mean?"

"I'm mad that you've loved him for 6 years. I'm mad that you never thought enough of yourself to look around and see all the people that could treat you the way you _deserve_ to be treated because you're too busy pining after a man who's never spared you a second glance. You are so much more than that, Eponine. And you deserve someone who can and will and wants to take care of you," he told her, his voice breaking a bit at the end.

"And that's you, then?" It was more of a statement than a question.

"It could've been. But fuck, Ep, you're just so _infuriating_. You're stubborn, you know? And yeah, I'm stubborn too, but when will you learn that you can let someone in? You keep yourself so isolated, and you cut yourself off from your own feelings and instead obsess over a man who hardly ever gave you the time of day. You push everyone away; anyone who tries or manages to get too close, you just completely shut out. You want someone to come along and save you, you want a prince charming, but you're more interested in being saved than the guy doing the saving."

She wasn't looking at him. "So you're still mad then," was all she said.

He gave her that half-smile of his, the one that made her stomach flip. "I'm always mad at you, Ep. I'm still _furious_ about Marius, but how could I stay mad after everything you've been through the last few weeks? And after today, I understand why you are the way you are."

Eponine's head snapped up, her brown eyes flashing as they met his. "I don't want your pity," she told him angrily. "I'm proud of who I am. I had to fight like hell to get to where I am, but fighting like hell has made me who I am. So don't talk down to me like I'm some sort of big, sad mystery. I am the way I am because I did what was necessary to get out of the slums."

He smiled at her again, "Ep, calm down. I'm not pitying you or trying to make you mad. All I'm saying is that I understand why you don't let anyone in. With the exception of Gavroche's situation, that is. Thank you, by the way, for trusting me enough to help you get through that."

"I wouldn't have gotten through it without you," she admitted, her face unreadable. He wasn't surprised by her abrupt delivery; Eponine was no fan of sentiment. In fact, she was looking down at her hands when she said it, avoiding his gaze as she absently played with her fingers.

"As glad as I am to have helped you, and to be talking to you again, I'm still rather upset about the wedding," he told her, somewhat mercilessly.

"It wasn't on purpose," she mumbled under her breath, still staring down at her hands.

"I know, but to be trying so hard… and then to hear his name _anyway_… it sucks, Ep."

She was sure it did, especially now that she understood that even then, Enjolras had feelings for her. She found herself wondering when exactly those feelings began.

"I know you can't help who you love, but I wish it wasn't him," he told her, voice cracking again. He sounded suddenly tired.

"It's not," she confessed quietly, looking up from her hands to meet his surprised gaze. "I've been over him for – well, I'm not sure for exactly how long, but I've moved on. The day everyone told me they knew about you and me, he and Cosette were there. He… well, I wasn't affected by him. Nor have I been, when he's been around since. I don't know if I'm completely over him – honestly, I think a little part of me will always love him – but I'm not _in_ love with him at all anymore. I don't think about him, I don't fantasize about him, I hardly even think of him if it's not with the rest of the boys."

Enjolras just stared, then cleared his throat awkwardly. He had been waiting for these words for months, but realized he had no idea what to do with them. And it didn't seem like Eponine really knew either.

"Well… that's good news, then. I'm glad he won't be causing you any more heartache," he said diplomatically.

"Me too."

Silence. Long, awkward silence.

Finally, she asked, barely above a whisper, "Can you ever forgive me?"

Enjolras felt the corner of his mouth twitch into a smile. "Well given what happened the other night, I'd say my lingering anger isn't really going to affect us at all, so it doesn't matter."

She just looked at him. His unspoken words, _we made love_, floated awkwardly in the air between them.

"But yes, I forgive you," he told her with a smirk, eager to break the uncomfortable silence. He was still a little angry and hurt, but it was quickly dissipating.

This was a new Eponine – one who _wasn't_ in love with Marius, one who had finally opened up a bit, one who would hopefully let him even further in.

Maybe this new Eponine would drown in his tide, just as he had in hers.

Maybe this new Eponine would fall in love with him, too.

* * *

I hope the smut was ok hahaha. I've never written it before and I felt really weird about it, so I tried to keep it marginally classy...?

Anyway, please review, please visit me on tumblr, please PROMPT ME!

A plus de tard!


	7. Chapter 7

Hi everyone!

I'm so sorry to keep you all waiting for _so long_ on this chapter. As I've mentioned, I never meant this to be more than a oneshot (whomp whomp), but in the beginning I was churning out way more than I've been able to do lately. So it worked at first because I could afford to update every 2 or 3 days - you know, because I had so written so far ahead - but then school got busy and then there was writer's block and I'm mostly over it now. So rather than write something really quickly to post but have it be sub-par, taking longer in between chapters means better work! Quality over speed wins the race?

That said, I'm not all that happy with this chapter. Oh well, it's necessary to get us where we need to go next (and I still had a really fun time writing all the goofiness).

Which brings me to point C! There will probably only be **two more chapters** after this one. There is now an ending for this fic, and I'm eager to wrap it up and get all my feels out about it. However, because you guys are the best. people. ever., I'm going to write an epilogue (though it probably won't be anywhere near as long as the chapters usually are), and I'm going to post a deleted scene from chapter 6! (More on that later.)

To the anon who messaged me on tumblr: here's your update! Ok please get tumblr and be my friend! I would've replied, but 1) this chapter was going up shortly after you messaged me, and 2) there are too many real life people that follow me on tumblr who understand my geekiness, which is fantastic, but really do _not_ need to know that I write somewhat smutty fanfiction. Hence the lack of a public reply. BUT PLEASE GET TUMBLR! Everyooooonnnneeee get tumblr and be friends with me!

Lastly, eternal thanks to ThinksInWords (GO READ EVERYTHING SHE'S WRITTEN NOW, ALL HER LES MIS FICS ARE E/É AND SHE'S AMAZEBALLS) aka textsfromumbridge on tumblr who is incredibly helpful for bouncing ideas/advice/editing/critiques. Seriously, as soon as you're done here (or before you read this, whatevs), go read her stuff. And tell her I say hello.

**Disclaimer: **I'm being inducted in the French National Honor Society next week at my university and the staff asked that we bring in an excerpt of a French poem and I picked one by Victor oh Victor whaT HAVE YOU DONE TO ME?!

* * *

Gavroche was discharged from the hospital a few days later. Joly drove Eponine to collect him, Bahorel in tow. The kid was excited to be getting out, and especially to be moving in with Eponine. Or maybe he was just excited to finally be living with his idol, Courfeyrac. Eponine didn't care, as long as he was happy and had someone to look up to. That was why she was sure this would work, because she lived with Enjolras and Courfeyrac (and Grantaire, but she _really_ didn't want Gavroche to be a heavy drinker), and spent all of her time around these other boys that were incredibly driven and successful.

When they arrived at the apartment, Eponine opened the door for Gavroche, sharing looks with Joly and Bahorel. When the door swung open, the teenager was greeted by a large group of people shouting, "Surprise!"

A "Welcome Home Gavroche" banner had been put up (painted meticulously by Eponine herself). There were boxes and boxes of food from the café, alcohol (for those of age), and lots of soda. Gavroche was greeted first by Courfeyrac, who gave him a big hug, then by all the others, who hugged him and ruffled his mop of blonde hair and clapped his shoulders. Enjolras gave him a big hug, locking eyes with Eponine as she watched. He winked at her, and her smile grew.

In addition to the Gavroche banner, she and her roommates had spent the past several days putting up the decorations for Christmas. They had gone and picked out a tree the previous day, and had decorated it so that everything would be ready for Gavroche. The boys had followed Eponine's and Clémence's creative directions, and now the apartment was fully decked out in garland, lights, flowers, and other Christmasy décor. And now it was perfect for when he came to his new home.

Grantaire handed her a glass of red wine, grinning at her and planting a sloppy kiss on her cheek. She playfully batted him away and went to her room to drop off her things.

"He seems happy," a familiar voice observed, startling her a bit.

"I'm just thankful he's healthy," she told Enjolras, unwrapping her scarf and hanging it up. She sank onto her bed gratefully. "It's a relief that he's here. I thought I was going to lose my baby brother," she said softly.

He sat next to her. "Are you ok?" he asked. "You've been pretty distant with me since we went to your parents' house." He avoided bringing up their conversation about how he felt about her, even though he suspected that was the _real_ reason she had been avoiding him.

She gave him a look. "I don't want to talk about them, Enj," she said, a little harsher than she meant to. Consciously softening herself, she deflated a bit. "It sucks, but it's not a conversation for now. There's a party going on out there!"

There it was again. That fake smile, that over-emphasized happiness. She was shutting down. Enjolras wondered if the weirdness was due in part to the fact that she had come to understand his feelings for her, that she was the only woman he had ever noticed, that she knew that he wanted more from her than she had previously been willing to give. Perhaps Eponine was unaware of the depth of his feelings: that he loved every dark and stormy ripple that bubbled up from the places where the sun couldn't reach, that she had swept through his body like the cold sea and taken hold of his heart for her own and drowned him in her salt and infinity, that he was sinking farther and deeper below the surface despite his feeble attempts to break free from her undertow and swim for the breath he so desperately needed.

She was looking at him, and he wanted desperately to kiss her. But her bedroom door was open, and when he tenderly placed a hand on her back (he couldn't help himself) she stiffened beneath it and hurriedly stood up, taking a large swig of her wine.

_Nope, she's still scared._

"Come on, let's go be social," she suggested, giving him a slightly strained smile.

Enjolras followed her out, pulling the door shut behind him. Eponine had already disappeared off into the crowd of his friends. He spotted her under Jehan's arm, her arm wrapped around his waist and her head affectionately resting on his shoulder. It made him smile.

* * *

Gavroche was thrilled with his private, albeit tiny, bedroom. He had insisted that he could sleep on the pullout so that the office would still be the office, but none of his new roommates would hear of it.

The next morning when Enjolras woke, he found Eponine and Grantaire in the kitchen, busily cooking pancakes. When Eponine spotted him, she instantly started ordering him around, asking him first to set the table, then to go and wake up her brother and Courfeyrac and Clémence.

As he was pulling out plates, he noticed that Grantaire had a floury handprint smeared across his face, and the same flour was in Eponine's hair, on her clothes, and on both of her cheeks. He turned his back on them, putting the plates on the kitchen table, and grinned. "Are you two actually making pancakes, or are you just getting the mix everywhere?"

He turned as he said it, and found Eponine standing directly behind him. Before he could react, her floured hands were smearing across his face and hair. It made him sneeze, but before she could run away, he grabbed her around the waist, holding her tightly and lifting her into the air as she shrieked and laughed and struggled in his arms.

They only stopped horsing around when a groggy Gavroche stumbled into the room, regarding them with a curious look. Enjolras cleared his throat and set Eponine down; she walked over to her brother and patted his cheek, grinning deviously when it left a handprint on him too.

"No, no," he said sarcastically, "Don't let me stop your flirting."

Grantaire just snorted, trying to cover his smile as Eponine glared at him. "What?" he asked defensively, "I didn't say a word. Your brother's smart, he figured it out on his own." Gavroche just looked at Enjolras and winked, making the law student smile as well.

"Doesn't take a genius, sis. R didn't tell me anything," he teased with a grin.

Eponine, avoiding Enjolras' gaze, just harrumphed and held her chin up. Then she spritzed water in Gavroche's face from the sink.

When the pancakes were _finally _done (it took a while for the cooks to get themselves back under control), and when Courfeyrac and Clémence finally emerged from their room, they all settled down to a comfortable breakfast.

Eponine's idiot friends had sat in such a way that she and Enjolras were forced to sit side by side. Courfeyrac and Grantaire were grinning stupidly, and even Clémence looked a little sly. Gavroche was already stuffing his face.

* * *

Christmas was coming up fast, and she had gotten gifts for everyone _except _Enjolras.

Last Christmas, she had gotten him a nice red scarf, because he had always complained about winter and how his "neck business" was always cold when he would have to leave the apartment. He had loved it, and wore it until it was much too warm for heavy scarves, and had pulled it out in the fall as soon as there was the slightest chilly breeze.

But – well, they had been sleeping together on and off for months. And he had feelings for her, he had said as much. Did that mean she had to buy him something _better?_ What could be better than a scarf? Maybe a coffee mug?

She decided to ask Clémence, Musichetta, and Cosette. The four of them had gone out for lunch one day a few weeks before Christmas. Everyone had made plans to go away for the holidays – Musichetta would be going with Joly, and Cosette's father and Marius' grandfather were coming to them, but everyone else would be going to their respective homes. Eponine was, of course, staying, and would be doing Christmas with her brother and sister at her apartment.

They each just gave her varying degrees of knowing smiles.

"When are you planning on telling him how you feel about him?" asked Clémence, for what felt like the hundredth time.

"Clé, can we _not_ have this discussion again?" Eponine asked exasperatedly, angrily stabbing her salad with a fork.

"Oh please, Eponine, everyone knows you like him. Why else would you be asking us about whether or not you should be buying him a special Christmas present?" Musichetta inquired.

"It's a logic thing, guys. We've been screwing for a while, and now that we've talked about how he feels about me –."

"You did _what now?"_ hissed Clémence. Eponine looked at her friends, all regarding her with wide eyes and expectant faces.

"Ok, but this isn't about that –."

"No, it's _definitely_ about that," Cosette insisted. "Eponine, you know he wants something _more_ from you, and now you're asking if you should get him a special Christmas present."

"Sounds pretty relationship-y to me," Musichetta said in a sing-song voice with a smirk, her tongue in her cheek.

"You guys suck, you're the least helpful friends ever," Eponine pouted.

"Alright, alright, alright," Clémence said quickly. "What were you thinking of getting him?"

"A reusable travel coffee mug?"

"A mug?" repeated Musichetta scornfully. "The guy has been pleasuring you all year and now he wants to get serious with you and you want to buy him a _mug_," she said loudly.

"Can you _not_?" hissed Eponine, looking around. She loved Musichetta dearly, but the girl was as sassy as they come and had a voice that carried.

"What did you get for the other boys? What are some examples?" asked Cosette, much less judgmentally.

"Well, I got Jehan a personalized moleskin notebook to write his poetry, I got R a nice new flask because his old one was shitty and a fancy bottle of bourbon to fill it with, I'm doing art pieces for Combeferre, Feuilly, and Courfeyrac, I found these great wireless speakers for Bahorel – you know how he is about loud music –."

"Ok," said Clémence, cutting her off, "So you bought everyone pretty personal things. You can't just get Enjolras some average _mug_ after giving Jehan a personalized moleskin."

"Why don't you put a bow on your hoo-hah and just give him that? That's _really_ personal," Musichetta suggested dryly. Cosette choked into her iced tea (she rarely drank during the day, unlike her friends).

Eponine gave her a look, but then retorted with, "Oh no, he's had that too many times. I'm not a re-gifter."

That won her peels of laughter from her friends; she giggled with them.

When they regained control, Cosette asked, "What kind of message are you trying to send him?"

Eponine sipped her wine thoughtfully. "I don't really know, I guess I'm trying to say, 'hey, you're my best friend, and we're also fucking and I know you like me.'"

Three unimpressed faces glared back at her.

"Why don't you get him something that says, 'hey, man, I'm in love with you too?'" Musichetta suggested wryly.

_"Because I'm not in love with him_," Eponine insisted.

Clémence waved her hand dismissively. "Having this conversation with Eponine is like talking to a wall. Ep, you need to get him something that says that you're at least trying. It doesn't have to say 'thanks for all the great sex' or 'by the way, I'm in love with you.' Just get him something that says that you care, that you recognize that you two have a special bond – whatever you decide that that bond is – and that you love him, you know, as a friend."

* * *

Eponine arrived home well before anyone else was due back. Gavroche had been back in school for the past few days (she had sat down with him, explained the rules of him living with her – his curfew, his homework and school rules, his chores) and had complained about it good-naturedly every day, though he clearly was very happy to be back.

Being there on her own, she had plenty of time to wrap presents without being disturbed.

Everyone's gifts were laid out on her bed (she was locked in her room, just in case someone stumbled in early). She wore Joly's hat as she wrapped, playing loud music and singing along shamelessly and making several trips out to the tree to put the gifts under it. She had wrapped Enjolras' second-to-last and was laying it carefully under the tree when the door banged open.

Enjolras walked in, moving sluggishly. He didn't notice her sitting cross-legged next to the tree as he slowly shrugged off his coat and that red scarf, just kind of letting it all sink to the floor on top of the laptop bag he had unceremoniously dropped by his feet.

He was dressed in his work clothes, but didn't bother to change or even take his shoes off as he moved over to the couch to lay down. Then he caught sight of her.

"Why are you wearing that stupid hat?" he asked, staring at her with one open eye. His voice was hoarse and tired.

Eponine stood up and went over to him, crossing her arms and huffing as she replied, "It's Joly's Christmas present. And it's _not_ stupid." It was suede, lined with faux fur, and had earflaps that tied under the chin. Joly was always complaining about his cold ears and how it would certainly make him sick. Musichetta had been there when Eponine bought it, and had laughed so hard that she had to stop walking – she had actually cried a bit. Then she insisted that Eponine buy it, and informed her that Joly certainly _would_ wear it.

"No, you're right. He'll actually love that goofy thing," he agreed, shutting his eye.

She surveyed him. His face was pale, but his cheeks were flushed and his nose was red. When he opened his eyes to look at her again, they were tired and cloudy.

"Will you go away and let me sleep?" Enjolras grumbled noncommittally.

Eponine just reached out and felt his cheek with the back of her hand, then pressed her palm to his forehead. "Enj, you're burning up. What, did you catch a cold?" she asked with concern, pulling her hand away.

He caught her wrist, pulling her hand back down to his face. "Your hands are cold," he mumbled. "They feel good."

She sighed impatiently and sat down on the edge of the couch, placing her hands on his cheeks. He sighed as well, a little more contentedly, and laid his arm across her lap, absently caressing her hip.

A short time later, Eponine informed him wryly, "Your face is making my hands hot. Can I have them back now?"

Enjolras just groaned, covering one of her hands with his free one, and keeping hold as she let go of his face. He opened an eye. "You still look ridiculous in that hat," he mumbled.

Eponine rolled her eyes. "Come on," she said, yanking on his arms and struggling to pull up his dead weight. "Let's get you into bed."

She stripped him down to his boxers, and even though it was fairly warm in the apartment, he was still shivering. He could barely stay standing, so he just sat patiently, eyes half-closed as she pulled off his work clothes ("Jesus, Enj, how did you make it home on public transportation? You can barely stand!") and replaced them with flannel pajama pants and a long-sleeve t-shirt. Then she pulled his bed apart, helping him in and getting him comfortable before hanging his clothes over his desk chair. He was still shivering, so she threw an extra blanket from her room over him.

Eponine left him, closing his door softly behind her, and pulled out her cell phone as she walked into the kitchen to put the tea kettle on. "Joly," she said when he picked up. "Enj is sick. Think you can drop by on your way home from work and make sure that he isn't dying?"

She made him hot tea with lemon and honey to sooth his throat, and heated a bowl of chicken soup.

On her way back to Enjolras' room, Grantaire walked in the front door. "What the hell are you wearing?" he asked, taking off his coat.

"Joly's Christmas present," she replied, frowning at him. Why was _everyone_ judging this damn hat?

"That's perfect for him. He'll never take it off."

Eponine grinned in response, then asked, "Can you open Enjolras' door for me? My hands are full."

"Is this some weird sex thing? Because if it is, you're on your own –."

"No! Enj is sick so I made him tea and soup. Get your nasty-ass imagination out of here," she joked with a grin.

Grantaire opened the door, letting Eponine walk in before following her.

"How's the invalid?" Grantaire cooed.

"Dying," came the hoarse response.

"If it would make you feel better, I could go get Eponine a sexy nurse costume. Since, you know, she's fucking you _and_ nursing you back to health."

Eponine just picked up one of Enjolras' socks and tossed it at their roommate, who laughed. Even Enjolras was grinning weakly.

"Ok, R, can you not with the stuff about my sex life? My baby brother lives here now. He doesn't need to hear about that."

"It's ok! I already know!" a voice shouted from the kitchen. Eponine's mild expression immediately fell to a displeased one, shooting a mostly-serious glare at Grantaire.

When Gavroche appeared in the doorway, she frowned at him. "When the hell did you get here?"

He shrugged.

"Oh, just go do your homework," she ordered mildly. Gavroche just grinned, first at his sister, then at Grantaire, before taking his leave. Enjolras chuckled weakly behind her.

She set down the tea and soup on his nightstand, and had turned to leave with Grantaire when Enjolras grabbed her by the wrist.

"Stay," he murmured, gazing at her through half-lidded eyes.

She looked at Grantaire who gave her a knowing smile, then back down at Enjolras. Sighing in defeat, she pulled off her jeans, glaring at Grantaire as though she were daring him to make a comment, and crawled into Enjolras' bed.

"If you get me sick, I'll fucking murder you," she warned. Then, "Drink your tea."

Eponine propped one of his pillows up and pulled a book from his nightstand, studiously ignoring Grantaire but hyperaware of his gaze on them.

He was snickering as he cheekily told them, "You two behave now," to which he received a rude gesture from Eponine, and then he was gone.

A short time later – after Enjolras had finished his tea and eaten most of the soup (but only with encouragement) – he rolled over and leaned against Eponine. Sighing, she lifted her arm and let him rest his head on her chest. He curled into her, radiating heat, and muttered, "Best pillows ever."

It earned him a light smack on the top of the head and a grin. Then her hand that wasn't clutching the book was lightly running through his blonde curls. He hummed contentedly against her.

"Best I've felt all day," he murmured.

"That's because you're pressing your face into my boobs," she retorted dryly, unable to prevent another grin from forming.

They fell into silence – in fact, Eponine was fairly sure that Enjolras had just completely fallen asleep – and she was several pages into the book when the door swung open, revealing Joly.

As soon as he took in the sight before him, he smirked. However, unlike Grantaire and Courfeyrac, who were guffawing behind him, he simply said, "Hey Eponine." Then his eyes drifted up to her head. "Hey, that's a rockin' hat. I really like it."

She snatched it off her head hurriedly, having forgotten that she was wearing it all this time, and stuffed it under the covers. Enjolras, who had apparently woken up, snorted against her chest.

Joly examined him – he had even brought a stethoscope – and concluded that he had the flu.

Eponine stayed with Enjolras that night, hardly even worried about getting sick. He slept for most of the time, but her rest was significantly more uneasy. She couldn't help but remember the reactions of her friends as she held Enjolras in his bed, and her conversations with her girlfriends earlier in the day. She had been avoiding thinking too much about all of this since their three a.m. conversation the other night. But it had come to a point where she couldn't ignore it anymore.

_He has feelings for me_.

That much had been established. But how deep did those feelings go? Ugh, feelings were never even supposed to happen. They were _friends_; they were using each other. It was only sex, only a physical need. But then everything had gotten complicated.

Clémence had been insisting for months that Enjolras had feelings for Eponine. And she had been right, maintaining just as long that Eponine reciprocated those feelings.

Eponine herself was less sure. She had always kept herself so emotionally detached from any man that could even _potentially_ have a future with her. It had been to protect herself, her little heart, the parts of her soul that were still untouched by the darkness in her life.

But Enjolras had wedged himself into a hole in that wall, and in the process had lost himself in her. What had started out as an innocent physical act, a selfish indulgence, had ended up pulling him in deeper than she was sure either of them could ever have imagined.

He would have been better off if they had never started this. If they had just left their romantic history in his freshman dormitory, and gone on with their lives as friends.

But then again, Eponine hardly regretted any of it. Except saying Marius' name – that had been an unfortunate heartbreak for the both of them. But the sex had lead to a profound connection between them – not a romantic one, she told herself, but a deep friendship. She had come to rely on him, in more ways than for just sexual satisfaction.

She found herself wondering then, as she lay there stroking his thick hair, if this is what it had been like for _him_, those nights he had held her as she cried over Gavroche. Had he wiled away the hours that he couldn't sleep contemplating his feelings for her as she dozed against his chest, or had he known even then? Had he instead contemplated _her_? Perhaps her feelings for him or her actions or her fears?

No, he knew her fears. God, if anyone knew them, it was Enjolras.

Why had she done this? How could she break her own cardinal rule and let someone in? She was better off on her own, stronger on her own, less likely to falter. _You can't get your heart broken if you're all on your own_.

Eponine's life had been full of heartbreak. She hadn't had a childhood, she barely had a family, and the family that she did have she abandoned for college. Perhaps, then, Gavroche's accident had been a blessing in disguise. He was all right, he was healed, and it had brought him to her, had brought her and Azelma together again.

She thought about her boys, how good they had always been to her, even after she dropped out. She thought about how kind they were to Gavroche, and all that they did to help her keep him from going down a bad path, even and especially before his accident.

Perhaps _that_ was who her family was. _They_ were her family – Gavroche and Azelma, of course, but also Grantaire, Combeferre, Courfeyrac, Musichetta, Marius, Bahorel, Bossuet, Joly, Feuilly, Jehan, and now even Cosette and Clémence. And, of course, Enjolras.

She was closer to Enjolras than anyone, and had always been, and it was _obviously_ true now more than ever. But in the few short weeks since Gavroche's hospital stint began (and in the few short weeks since), there had been a marked shift in her relationship with Enjolras.

Things between them had become, well, like a relationship.

He had taken care of her when she was so low that she no longer could do it herself, and now _she_ was taking care of him. Eponine told herself that she was doing it to pay him back – she hated being indebted to _anyone_, even him – but a deep uneasiness in her stomach told her that wasn't so.

Enjolras had been acting like her boyfriend, and, what was more, Eponine _didn't hate it_. And now here she was in turn, acting like a girlfriend. Like _his_ girlfriend. It was because he had begged her to stay, of course, but a year ago she probably would've told him to go screw himself and keep his germy ass barricaded in his room.

What was he _doing_ to her?

And then there was the fact that Clémence kept insisting that Eponine was in love with Enjolras.

Well. Eponine didn't know how to be in love with anyone. She loved her friends, her siblings – no, her _family_ – but she didn't know how to be _in _love. It was something she had spent her entire life running from, desperate to protect her heart, the only thing that had ever been solely her own.

So was she in love with him? No, she didn't think so.

But did she have feelings as well? Or was she just reflecting his light, like the moon reflects the sun?

With the exception of Marius, Eponine had never had romantic feelings for anyone, at least not in her adult life.

But she was only happy when she and Enjolras were on good terms. And she was by far the happiest when they were together. It didn't matter if they were with the rest of their friends or alone like this. She wanted to be around him constantly, to be touching him constantly. Of course, they barely touched one another unless they were alone, and it irritated her to no end that their friends were so annoying about what had happened between them, acting as though the two were a volcano about to explode. But then again, this wasn't a normal friendship.

Eponine ran her fingers through his thick hair again.

Maybe more than a friendship wouldn't be that bad.

* * *

Enjolras was much better after a few days, though he had passed on a touch of his flu to Eponine. Which infuriated her.

And what was worse, it was three days before Christmas, and he was leaving to go home. Courfeyrac had left the night before, and Grantaire had left a few hours earlier.

"Are you sure you don't want to come with me?" he asked for the thousandth time, throwing a few more items in his duffel bag. "I've already told you, Azelma and Gavroche can come too. We have more than enough room. And I'll be able to take good care of your diseased ass."

"I don't go anywhere with assholes who give me the flu," she sniffed, huddled on the couch under a blanket, eyes glued to _Casablanca_.

When he opened his mouth to retort and to try to change her mind, she shushed him. He sighed. _Casablanca _was her favorite movie.

So instead of speaking, he sat with her, pulling some of the blanket over him. She instantly, seemingly without even thinking, swung herself off the arm of the couch and changed positions to lie on his shoulder. He put his arm around her, and she sneezed into a tissue.

"I fucking hate you," she said matter-of-factly.

"I know," he replied with a grin.

Enjolras felt guilty about leaving her for Christmas, especially when she was sick (because of him). Eponine, he had come to learn, was more fragile than she would ever let on. Even though Azelma and Gavroche would be with her, he worried that she would burrow into her mind without her friends there, that he would come back and she would be once again cold and closed to him.

She knew every word to this movie, though it wasn't a fact he was just learning. He sat there with her, her head in his lap and his hand entangled in her hair, as she whispered along with her favorite lines.

* * *

Christmas arrived with light snow flurries and grey skies. Eponine exchanged gifts with Gavroche and Azelma, the 24-hour marathon of _A Christmas Story_ playing over and over in the background. Eponine had been vowing for years that someday she was going to watch the whole marathon from beginning to end.

They had made crepes for breakfast and had just lazed around all day, until Eponine began cooking for dinner. She was a very good cook when she wanted to be, and was making flounder stuffed with crabmeat, with lots of vegetables on the side. She had bought lobster bisque, as well, and a few nice bottles of wine. She had even made a cheesecake from scratch for dessert.

They were just sitting down to dinner (_A Christmas Story_ still playing in the next room), when they heard the front door creak open.

Eponine got up, curiously striding into the living room. Everyone had gone home, so who the hell would have a key to get in?

_Enjolras_.

Of course it would be him.

He was standing in the doorway, his duffel bag on the floor. When she walked in, he gave her that charming smile of his and opened his arms with a shrug.

"Merry Christmas!" he said, pulling her into a hug. He was still wearing his coat.

"Merry Christmas, Enj," she replied, her heart quickening a bit. "What the hell are you doing here?"

He shrugged, unbuttoning his coat and hanging it and his red scarf on the pegs next to the door. "I had a solid few days with my family, and a wonderful morning, but I felt bad about you three being here all alone." He slipped his arm around her shoulder. "You guys are my family, too, so I hopped on the train a few hours ago and came home."

Eponine's arm had snaked its way around his waist without her evening noticing. "Are you hungry? I cooked!"

"Yes, I'm _starving_," he told her.

"GAV!" she shouted into the kitchen. "Enjolras is home, set another place!"

"I have a present for you," he said, taking her by the hand and dragging her to the tree. It was still full of their gifts for their friends, who were all returning the following day.

He handed her a small, long box, wrapped to perfection in festive red paper.

In response, Eponine handed him a large gift, also wrapped in red, though the wrap job was incredibly sloppy. It made Enjolras laugh; Eponine did not have the patience for wrapping, especially when she had had so many gifts to do.

"Count of three?" he asked. She nodded, a somewhat apprehensive smile on her face.

"One… two… _three_!"

They tore the paper off, each racing to get there first.

Eponine won, given that her gift was so small. When she ripped the paper off, it revealed a blue box. When she took off the lid, she found a silver anchor necklace on a black cord. Her breath hitched in her throat.

"I got it from Grantaire's sister. She just graduated with her degree in jewelry design, and she made it herself. If you don't like it –."

The look Eponine gave him silenced him. "Enjolras, it's _beautiful_," she whispered. Her heart was beating quickly. She picked it up, unceremoniously dropping the box (Enjolras couldn't help but grin), and tried to latch it around her neck. When she failed, he gently took the ends with fingers that burned like fire against the brush of her own, and she turned, holding up her long tresses to let him clasp it. His touch against her neck sent a chill down her spine and left a trail of delicious heat and goosebumps in its wake.

He breathed in heavily the scent of her hair.

When she turned back around, their faces were inches apart. Her hand was daintily holding the pendant.

A moment passed, in which Eponine began to panic. What were they _doing?_ They were _friends!_ Before she could stop herself, she was unconvincingly whispering, "Gran- R's sister is very talented," offering him a sheepish grin.

Enjolras stepped back, and gave a noncommittal grunt in agreement.

Damn, trust her to ruin a moment.

They stared at each other for another moment before Eponine awkwardly cleared her throat and gestured to his half-unwrapped, abandoned gift. He had set it on the coffee table to clasp her new necklace.

"Open it," she insisted, voice still weak.

Enjolras pulled off the rest of the paper, which floated forgotten to the floor, to reveal a large book.

Eponine was biting her lip, suddenly nervous, as he ran a gentle hand over it.

It was leather-bound, heavy, and old.

"The Best-Known Works of Voltaire," he read, voice slightly awed, "The Complete Romances."

He looked up at her, a rather unrecognizable look in his eye.

"Eponine, this – this is _incredible_."

"This copy was published in 1940," she said. It was brown, and the title the edges of the pages were a shiny gold.

He was cradling the book as though it were a baby, pulling her into a tight, one-armed hug with his free hand.

"Thank you," he whispered into her ear.

She couldn't help nuzzling her head into her neck.

"Back at you," she whispered.

They stood there for a long moment, suddenly completely unable to let one another go.

"The food is getting _cold_, for fuck's sake! Can't you two have Merry Christmas sex later?" complained Azelma loudly, standing with Gavroche in the doorway.

They broke apart, but Enjolras was grinning at her, and Eponine couldn't help but smirk in return.

When Gavroche and Azelma went to bed later that night – Eponine had given Azelma her bed and had opted to sleep in Enjolras' while he was gone – Eponine found herself tight in Enjolras' embrace.

"I missed you," he murmured against her jaw, his mouth slowly making its way up to hers.

She leaned her forehead against his, looking deep into his eyes. Even though they had only been apart for a few days, she had felt so alone and bored without him, though she hadn't even _noticed_ until he got back.

"I missed _you_," she whispered back, her hands entwined in his golden curls.

His eyes were _so_ blue, _so_ clear as they bored into hers. For a moment, it felt like she was staring into the ocean.

Then his hand began to move, churning against her like the roiling waves far out to sea, and Eponine ceased to see at all.

* * *

Thank you all for reading/reviewing/following!

YOU'RE ALL THE BEST THANKS WINNERS STAY EXCELLENT!


	8. Chapter 8

Ok guys.

Second to last chapter (plus epilogue plus deleted scene).

Again, sorry this took so long to get up. I haven't slept much in the last two days, and it's 1:30 here and I have to be up at 8 and I'm _so_ tired, but I desperately wanted to finish this chapter and write it to get things off my mind and to get it up for you wonderful people who have been beyond patient and understanding with my increasing slowness.

**Disclaimer:** Guys I think I'm dead.

* * *

Eponine's 25th birthday was in the middle of the week between Christmas and New Year's Eve. This, of course, afforded her and her friends an entire week of partying, thanks to the closeness of the three events.

The boys had all come back to the city the day after Christmas, and they had chosen that night to exchange gifts. Joly had, of course, loved his hat, and had refused to take it off any time he had been in her presence during the past day and a half.

The day of Eponine's 25th birthday dawned bright and early, with her roommates sneaking into her room to wake her up with breakfast in bed and a loud – but harmonized – happy birthday song. Enjolras, who had stayed the night in her room, must have snuck out before she woke.

She and all of her friends, as well as Gavroche, Azelma, and even Montparnasse, had made a reservation at the Musain to celebrate (they didn't take reservations there, but the group spent so much time there that they were more than willing to accommodate Eponine's large birthday party).

The boys were, of course, all ready to go, but the girls were still locked up in Eponine's room getting ready. After dinner, they were planning on going out to Eponine's favorite bar, though her underage siblings would be returning to the apartment.

The boys had just started to impatiently shout to the girls on the other side of Eponine's door when Azelma emerged, followed by the other women. She was wearing a pretty red dress with a bustier top and nude heels; her hair was pulled into a loose knot at the nape of her neck.

Cosette, per usual, looked dainty and girly and oh-so-pretty in a modest green lace dress and classic black heels, her hair tumbling in loose curls over her shoulders.

Musichetta was wearing a deep purple dress that hugged her body; the top was like a sports bra, and a layer of mesh joined it to the skirt, and it dipped into a deep V in the back. Her hair was in a bun on the top of her head, and she was wearing silver pumps and sultry makeup.

When Clémence emerged, snapping at Eponine to hurry up, a few of the boys murmured appreciatively and clapped Courfeyrac on the back and shoulders. She was wearing a short, body-hugging blue dress; it was one shouldered, and a dangerously low slit curved between her breasts. The low swoop was filled in with a sheer material of the same color that traveled up the strapped shoulder, the whole way down to her arm in a single sleeve, then down around the back. Without the sheer fabric, the back would have been dangerously low, but the translucent bit mostly covered her. Her light brown hair was pulled taught on one side with pins and was forced to spill over the strapless side in loose ringlets, and she was wearing platform wedges and bright lipstick. Clémence walked over to Courfeyrac and gave him a very deliberate, lipstick-y kiss, smiling victoriously when her lips left behind their mark.

Then came Eponine. The boys wolf-whistled at catcalled her as she smirked, and most of them looked to Enjolras for his reaction.

He was staring at her with slightly parted lips and wide eyes.

She was wearing a slinky black number, short like Clémence's, but with thicker straps. It pushed up her bust impressively, and there were small triangular cutouts at her waist. She spun around for everyone, revealing several more triangular cutouts across her back. Her hair was pulled into a tight ponytail, her eyes were smoky, and her legs were accentuated and looked miles-high in black stiletto ankle booties.

Enjolras noticed a silver anchor pendant resting below her collarbone. His heartbeat quickened.

As Eponine pulled on a black leather jacket, laughing loudly at something Bahorel said, she briefly locked eyes with Enjolras.

They fell into step as they walked to the café, and again later as they walked to the bar.

* * *

The bar was much too dark and much too loud and much too hot for Enjolras' taste. Most of his friends were on the dance floor or talking – more like _shouting_ – animatedly at the bar. He, however, had never really been one for clubs, with their bad, loud music and the smell of sweat and shame that emanated from the gyrating strangers.

But it was Eponine's birthday, so he could hardly leave.

For _his_ 25th birthday a few months back, they had gone to dinner and come home at a reasonable hour like responsible adults. Though perhaps it would have turned out differently had he and Eponine been speaking then, but that was unfortunately in those months between Marius' wedding and Gavroche's hospitalization.

He sipped his whiskey, watching her.

Men had been flocking around her all night, and for good reason. She was just so _sexy_, and completely in her element. She moved like a siren in a sea of people, drawing them in and threatening to drown them in her energy and force.

In return, they drowned her in drinks.

It was quite impressive, actually, that she could get so many men to spend money on her without promising them any more than a slinky dance and a sweet smile. Each new guy that approached her made Enjolras burn with rage and jealousy, but she danced circles around them – literally – and then moved on to the next, never paying any more attention to one over another.

She spent a great deal of time dancing with her friends as well, both the boys and the girls. Some of the boys were better than others – Bahorel, for example, was a great dancer, though it was hardly surprising, and Combeferre was hopeless – but Eponine devoted a lot of time to them, as did several other girls.

Enjolras was sitting at the bar sulking, almost finished with his whiskey, when Clémence came up next to him. She was breathing heavily, and had asked for two waters, then turned to him.

"Why are you here all by yourself?" she asked, leaning close to his ear and shouting over the music. "It's Eponine's birthday! You should be out there dancing with her!"

"She's doing well enough for herself without me," he shouted back, hoping that the loud music hid the bitterness in his voice. "Besides, she's getting herself a lot of free drinks by not dancing with me."

Clémence didn't reply, just rolled her eyes and grabbed his hand, pulling him out on the dance floor with her. Enjolras didn't even bother to argue; she wouldn't be able to hear him over the music anyway.

She dragged him through the crowd to where their friends were dancing. Some noticed him and waved or cheered, though it was barely audible over the bass and beats of the music, but most of them were too caught up in the music and their partners to see that he had joined them.

Eponine was dancing with Courfeyrac, her arms in the air and her hair in her face, swiveling her hips against him and laughing loudly. She didn't seem to notice Enjolras, as Clémence instantly grabbed one of her hands and starting dancing with her as soon as they were face to face.

Enjolras couldn't help but stare at how they were practically dancing on top of one another.

Then suddenly Clémence was yanking him to her, placing his hands on her hips, dancing against him and on Eponine, their hands mingling in the air. Eponine was clearly very drunk, and was laughing hard, leaning forward with her head on Clémence's shoulder as they shouted in one another's ears.

Suddenly they switched places, and Clémence was with Courfeyrac and Eponine was with him. She turned to see with whom she was dancing now, and her gaze fell upon him in surprise, her mouth forming his name, though it was drowned out by the music.

She spun around and latched her arms around his neck in a big hug.

"I'm so glad you're celebrating with me!"

"I'm not much of a dancer," he confessed as the song changed.

Eponine shrieked in his ear – though he hardly heard it – and told him, "I _love_ this song! It's a remix of that one I played you the other day! 'Royals,' by Lorde, remember?"

Enjolras nodded automatically as she began dancing against him.

His expression must have been one of extreme discomfort with the situation, because when she caught sight of it she just laughed. "Come on, Enj!" she cried. "_Dance_ with me!"

She spun back around, facing Clémence and Courfeyrac (who had been joined by Musichetta, dancing now with Bossuet), and pulled Enjolras' hands to her hips. She reached around and put her hands on his, forcing him to sway with the rhythm of the song. When he was moving, awkward as it was, she began grinding her hips against his own.

Enjolras only felt awkward for a brief moment or two, because suddenly she was sweeping through him with her steady, rhythmic waves like an electric current, setting him on fire and drowning him all at once.

He felt his fingers digging into her as he became more comfortable with their dancing, and was suddenly unsure of whether his heavy breathing was due to his increased heart rate or because she was so close to him and touching him the way she was.

The song faded into a more sensual one, and Eponine's arms were suddenly in the air, then they were reaching back and one latched into his curls while the other found its way to one of his hands. She was flush against him, leaning her head back so far that it was almost on his shoulder and pressing her forehead against his cheek.

She was sweaty against him, mixing hers with his own, but it only made him want her more. His hands were digging into her so hard he was beginning to wonder if he would soon feel his fingers _through_ her. But he didn't care; instead, he planted a kiss on her shoulder and held her tighter, pulling her even closer, wondering if she could _feel_ how much he wanted her as she writhed against his hips.

Eponine spun in his arms to face him; Enjolras was struck by how sultry her expression was, with her smoky eyes and parted lips.

She knew _exactly_ what she was doing to him.

Her lips brushed his jaw and her nose touched his cheeks and he could _feel_ her smile, only centimeters away from his lips, but when he opened them expectantly she was gone, no longer facing him, dropping to the floor, sending him such a buzz that he thought he might lose it right there.

Eponine lost her balance on the way back up, but her hands were still holding Enjolras' tight and he caught her before she tipped to the floor, pulling her back up and holding her steady.

Even though she had only been teasing him seconds before, her face was now entirely different. She looked tired and ill, like she was suddenly much too drunk to be moving like she was. She gestured wildly, drunkenly, toward the entrance to the bar. Enjolras understood, pulling her arm over his shoulder and slipping his own around her waist, helping her walk in those stupidly tall heels, practically carrying her outside. He caught Musichetta's eye on their way through the crowd, nodding towards the door and hoping that she understood that he was taking Eponine home.

There was a bench on the sidewalk, and he gently deposited her there.

Eponine inhaled deeply, the cold night air showing like smoke as she breathed.

"Stay here," Enjolras commanded. His ears were ringing in the sudden quiet, though he could hear the loud music mutedly emanating through the walls.

A few minutes later he returned with their coats and a cup of water for Eponine. Her head was lolled against the bench and she regarded him with tired eyes.

He sat next to her, pulling her forward to wrap her jacket around her shoulders and then handing her the red cup.

"I drank too much," she slurred.

"You did," he agreed. "But it's your birthday. I think we'll let it slide just this once," he replied patiently.

She gave him a big, goofy grin.

"You're a _really_ good dancer," she whispered loudly, sidling closer to him on the bench. She smelled as though she had bathed in alcohol.

"Yes, well, I'm just naturally talented," he said patronizingly.

Eponine just giggled.

"Are you going to get sick?" he asked.

She took several deep breaths and sipped some more water.

"I don't think so," she told him.

"Well, sip your water, and when you're done we'll call a cab and go home."

She just nodded and sipped.

They were silent for several minutes, most of which Enjolras spent trying to get in touch with everyone to make absolute _sure_ that someone would bring Grantaire home. Eponine suddenly reached out and gripped his knee. "_Fuck_, it's cold," she informed him, leaning in as though she were telling him a secret.

Her face changed again, and she was up a moment later, retching into a strategically placed trashcan that was no more than three feet from the bench.

Enjolras sighed, gathering her things from the bench and getting up to rub her back.

She got sick two more times, sipping water in between before expelling it again.

Enjolras was surprised that, firstly, it was nearly two in the morning, and secondly, that the majority of their friends had left hours ago. Indeed, the only ones that he was still aware of in the club were Courfeyrac and Clémence, Joly and Musichetta, and Grantaire. Even Bahorel, who had been quite the lady killer out on the dance floor, was gone (though Feuilly responded to a text saying that he was fairly sure Bahorel had left with a young lady a few hours before).

When Eponine was stable enough to make it home, Enjolras hailed a cab. By the time they stopped in front of the apartment, she was half passed out against him, and after pulling her out of the cab and realizing that she could hardly walk – especially not in those crazy heels – he swung her up into his arms and carried her into the building.

Azelma, Montparnasse, and Gavroche were still up watching a movie on TV when Enjolras stumbled through the door, and muttered a quick "goodnight" to them before taking Eponine to the bathroom, where he dutifully washed off her makeup with a washcloth and helped her brush her teeth and change and freshen up enough to get in bed.

She was asleep before he even laid her head on the pillow, and he was not far behind, winding his arm around her waist and planting a gentle kiss on her knobby spine at the base of her neck.

"Happy birthday, Ep," he murmured against her skin, before falling into blackness beside her.

* * *

Eponine was in awful shape the next day.

She had woken up _entirely_ too early, wrenching herself out of Enjolras' embrace to run for the bathroom (she thought she had woken him up, but he must have gone back to sleep) and had spent the next hour sharing the toilet with Grantaire as they both brought up the remnants of the previous night.

Luckily for Eponine, however, she moved on from vomiting pretty quickly, as a good chunk of the alcohol had been expelled from her system outside of the club the previous night. She showered, leaving poor Grantaire hugging the bowl as she washed herself, willing away the pounding headache and dehydration and nausea.

She returned to Enjolras' room, after thoroughly brushing her teeth and washing away the night from her mouth, and after getting poor Grantaire a _large_ glass of water. Enjolras was in bed, shirtless, of course, curled on his side and breathing slowly, deep in sleep. It was still rather early, and they had been out so late the night before, so she wasn't surprised that he hadn't woken up with her.

Despite the pounding headache, the dizziness and nausea, the achiness in her body – both from dehydration and from dancing – that made her want to just collapse in that spot and never move again, Eponine smiled. He looked so peaceful and so _cute_ lying there, oblivious to her affectionate scrutiny.

She slid under the covers, sliding an arm around his middle and hooking one of her legs over his and pressing her lips to his back. Just as she was falling asleep again, warm and content and feeling less sick against him, she felt his fingers lace through hers.

* * *

Enjolras' stirring woke Eponine.

"Good morning," he rasped, voice still thick with sleep. He was rolled on his side, his head resting on his arm, smiling sleepily at her.

"Is it?" she groaned, smiling in spite of herself.

"Nope, definitely not anymore," he said, looking at the clock on his nightstand. "How hungover are you?"

Eponine shrugged. "Not too bad anymore. I was up at probably 6 this morning throwing up. Actually, I was throwing up with Grantaire. We shared the toilet. Our friendship has now reached _that_ point. And then I showered and came back to bed and slept most of it off."

"That's good, I'm glad you're feeling better."

"Ugh, I'm never drinking again," she told him.

Enjolras just snorted. "New Year's Eve is the day after tomorrow," he informed her pointedly, quirking an eyebrow.

"Ugh, I'm never drinking again until the day after tomorrow," she amended. He laughed.

"Did you have fun last night?" he asked, rolling over onto his stomach and propping himself on his elbows.

"I did. Did you?"

"You know, I actually did. It wasn't really my thing, but you always make things fun, so I had a good time."

"Why? What was I doing? Probably making a fool out of myself, right?" Eponine asked with a smile.

"You don't remember?"

"No, everything is kind of fuzzy after that guy with the ridiculous mustache bought me that shot."

"You danced with me," he told her, suddenly a little embarrassed. "Like, sexy danced with me. I thought you were going to try to have sex with me on the dance floor."

Eponine covered her face with her hands, half laughing, half groaning.

"I liked it though," he teased, making her laugh more.

"I'm so sorry for being a sloppy mess!" she gasped.

"It was mostly fine, except you passed out before I could give you your birthday present," he told her with a smirk.

"My birthday present?" she asked coyly.

Enjolras leaned down, planting a slow, lazy kiss on her lips, which she eagerly accepted.

"Sorry about the morning breath," he murmured with a grin, keeping it on his face as he kissed her again. He could feel Eponine smiling against him.

Enjolras had just propped his arm on the other side of her shoulder, so that he was lying over her, when someone knocked at the door. He groaned, dropping his head to her chest with a frustrated smile. Eponine just sighed and giggled quietly.

"Hey – you two! Stop whatever it is you're doing in there, sleeping or fucking or whatever, we made Eponine an anti-hangover breakfast!" Courfeyrac shouted through door.

"Be right there!" Eponine called. She planted a quick kiss on Enjolras' mouth, then said, "I'm fucking _starving_."

She got out of bed and was standing checking her phone, her back to him. He followed her out and wrapped his arms around her from behind, kissing her shoulder.

"We'll pick this up later," he said with a grin. Eponine just snorted and opened the door, walking out of his embrace.

* * *

Poor Grantaire was seated at the kitchen table, a steaming mug of coffee and a plate of greasy eggs and bacon in front of him. But his head was in his hands and he very clearly hadn't touched a thing.

Eponine squeezed his shoulders as she walked by him. "How are you, sweetheart?" she asked.

"Worse than you, it would seem," he grumbled.

"Well, you drank more than me," she replied, piling a plate with eggs and bacon and pancakes. Courfeyrac, Azelma, and Gavroche had cooked all of this when they woke up.

Clémence was sitting next to Grantaire, her head resting on her arms.

"Morning, Cle," Enjolras said, walking into the kitchen. Eponine was slightly disappointed to see that he had found a shirt, and that he was wearing it.

"Did you have fun last night?" Gavroche asked his older sister.

"I did, kiddo," she said with a smile, kissing him on the cheek.

"And did _you_ have fun, Enjolras?" he asked slyly, spinning around on his stool.

"Oh, they had a _fantastic_ time," Courfeyrac replied, jumping in before Enjolras could. "Eponine taught Enjolras how to _dance_." He said it as suggestively as he could.

"Yes, but I have to say the best part of all of it was when I held her hair back as she vomited into the trashcan outside," Enjolras cut in sarcastically.

"Standing _right_ here," Eponine snapped. Then, "Wait, I did what?"

"Don't worry, Ep, I definitely followed up that performance with some digestive pyrotechnics of my own," Clémence said, her voice hoarse.

"Yikes."

"Why aren't _you_ hungover?" Clémence asked bitterly.

"Oh, I am, I was up with Grantaire this morning. We took turns throwing up into the toilet."

"Ok, can we _not_ with this conversation? We're all about to eat, guys," Azelma said exasperatedly, shaking a spatula at them.

Courfeyrac smirked. "Girls are gross, right kid?" he asked Gavroche, nudging the teen with his elbow.

* * *

Azelma and Montparnasse were still staying with them, so Eponine slept in Enjolras' room again that night. They disappeared into his room fairly early on into the night, and they did not emerge until the next morning.

She fell asleep quickly, tired from the previous night and the restless sleep and the hangover and her extremely recent exertions. They had all done a whole lot of nothing for the entire day, recovering from the previous night with movies and food.

* * *

Enjolras was just coming out of his midterms in his final semester of law school, and had been working harder than Eponine had ever seen before.

However, she was working twice as hard as she had been previously as well, given that she had started up classes in January, and was now balancing a few classes a week with her waitressing job. She had _finally_ been able to start working down at the Musain; it was convenient, decent money, and she got to see a lot more of her friends.

But Enjolras had been more stressed than Eponine during midterms, partially because it was in his personality to be anxious and partially because he was getting a law degree.

She did her best to help him, but even her help only went so far.

When his awful week was over, a large group of them went out to a bar to celebrate.

But before too long, Enjolras' hand was on the small of Eponine's back, their knees were brushing, and their hands, and her hand was on his thigh, and suddenly they were back at the apartment, in her bed in a tangle of limbs and sheets.

Eponine was only moments away from releasing when Enjolras' passionate hissing in her ear as he came close himself caused her to freeze with shock.

In between whispering and moaning her name, he had unmistakably murmured, "_I love you._"

He seemed to think that she had stopped writhing beneath because she had had her moment, and she cursed her biology as only seconds later she _did_ come apart beneath him.

Enjolras collapsed on top of her, smiling that _stupid_, adorable grin of his that he always had after finishing, and propped himself up on his elbows on either side of her shoulders. He tenderly stroked her hair as his clear blue eyes swept over her face.

Eponine's heart had not slowed, and there was only rising panic instead of calm exhaustion.

_No_.

He couldn't love her; he wasn't _supposed_ to love her.

But isn't this what Clémence had insisted? That he had been in love with her for months?

When he bent down to lazily kiss her mouth, she couldn't help turning away. His lips brushed her jaw instead.

"Everything ok, Ep?" he asked, concerned.

Trying to keep the hysteria out of her voice, she quietly inquired, "Do you know what you just said to me?"

He was silent for a moment, trying to remember. "Um… No?"

She couldn't look at him. "You told me you loved me." Her voice was barely above a whisper.

He seemed to be struggling to find an answer. She waited patiently, still staring at the wall instead of at him, willing herself not to cry.

"Oh," was the soft reply. Then, "Eponine, it was only in the heat of the moment."

She turned to him, keeping her face as emotionless and stony as possible. "Was it?" she asked doubtfully.

Enjolras stared at her for a long, long moment, his eyes appraising and intense, but otherwise unreadable. She almost thought he was not going to reply, but he finally whispered, in a voice that was nearly inaudible, "No."

He rolled off her, pulling on his boxers as Eponine sat up. "You weren't supposed to fall in love with me," she told him sadly.

He just scoffed. "Well what the hell did you _think_ would happen, Eponine?" he asked, voice tight with hurt and anger.

She said nothing.

"You knew I had feelings for you, and you've been fine with it," he reminded her.

"_Feelings_, Enj. Not _love_."

"Oh, please. You have to have known. How could you not? I have given you everything, Eponine. Everything that I am. You are the only woman I've ever noticed, ever thought of, ever _wanted_. You are what I work for every day, the first person I think about in the morning and the last before I go to sleep. I want to give you everything you want. Eponine, I want to _be_ with you." There was a quiet desperation in his voice; that of a man who had been treading water less and less successfully, falling farther under as the waves rose to embrace him and then released him coldly, as she herself was wont to do, first holding him close and pushing him away when he began brushing at the depths where the monsters slept. Perhaps instead of bouncing him around through the sometimes-stormy, sometimes-calm seas that were her moods, she was trying to save him.

"You know how I feel about PDA," she joked weakly, unsure of how to respond to his declaration.

"Don't do that," he ordered. "Don't throw up your defenses and hide behind your jokes. _God_, Eponine, when are you going to grow up and let yourself _feel_ something for a change? I'm not going to hurt you. And – and I want to help you when you need it, I want you to rely on me so you don't have to be strong all on your own."

Again, she just stayed silent, staring at him with wide eyes and parted lips. Her heart was pounding in her chest.

"What are you so afraid of? Love doesn't have to be a scary thing."

"I'm not afraid of _anything_," she insisted fiercely.

"You're such a liar," he told her helplessly. "You're afraid that I'm going to turn you into someone you're not, that I'm – I'm going to throw you in a cage, try to tame you. Are you really so willfully blind? That's the last thing I could ever do, even if I _wanted_ to."

Eponine just shook her head. Enjolras took her hands.

"Ep, I couldn't contain you any more than a tidal pool could contain the ocean." He was sitting in front of her now, his hands sliding from hers to rub her upper arms lightly, his face close to hers. That smirk she absolutely loved was plastered on his stupid, angelic face.

What could _possibly_ be amusing about this situation?

She looked into his eyes. "Enj–."

"Eponine, be with me. Be my girlfriend. We're there, already. We do everything together, we sleep together every night, we're basically already dating. Please, just let me love you," he pleaded.

Before she could stop herself, Eponine heard an automatic, "No," escape from her lips. It was barely audible, but Enjolras heard it well enough.

His hands dropped from her arms, and he sat back, looking extremely hurt.

"Enjolras, you're my best friend, and I love you dearly but –."

But he held up a hand, stopping her words as they tumbled from her mouth. Without a sound he hurriedly dressed himself and went to the door.

The look of utter pain and heartbreak on his face when he turned to look at her was enough to break Eponine's own heart.

"When are you going to let yourself _feel_, Eponine?" he asked, his voice choked and small.

And then he was gone.

Eponine sat in shock for a moment. And then the tears began.

By the next afternoon, it seemed their entire friend group had discovered what had happened. So, rather unwilling to face anyone, Eponine just stayed in her room the whole day and sulked. She imagined Enjolras was doing the same.

Ok, maybe she wasn't completely shocked that he had fallen in love with her. It certainly wasn't completely out of the blue, especially after he had revealed that he had feelings for her.

But why did he have to ask anything of her? She had nothing to give. Certainly not to the likes of him; her shriveled little heart had been consumed by the demons that lurked in the darkest corners of her mind, the places that made her feel so alone, so utterly sad, so _broken_, even when she was clasped tight in Enjolras' embrace.

How could she give all that to him, dump it all on him? He was whole; why should it be left to him to pick up the pieces of a partial soul, floating about, trying desperately to stay afloat but so frequently slipping below the surface?

But.

Enjolras had become a beam of light in her life, brightening all but her very darkest moments with his stoicism and his wit and kindness. He was beyond supportive of everything she did, offering his help when applicable, but rarely being overbearing. He had discovered things about her that she herself had surely forgotten, and he had learned to take care of her. And in doing so, he had drowned in her.

All he wanted in return was her heart.

But she didn't know _how_ to love, and Eponine was fairly convinced that she was incapable. It was a love that ran deeper than friendship or family. That kind of love was pure, it was warmth and safety and unconditional.

But the kind of love that Enjolras was offering, that he was asking for in return? It was fire; a blazing inferno, sparking everything within reach, consuming every bit until there was nothing left.

Love was fire, _he_ was fire, and Eponine was water; she could only snuff it out, only kill it, leaving nothing but sad gray smoke behind. She was the moon, she was Artemis, controlling the tides and only existing in darkness. And Enjolras, that golden Apollo, that boy with so much fire and so much passion and _so much love_, he was the sun. He was capable and she was not; she could only reflect his light, but never produce her own.

The next few weeks crawled by slowly. Things were perpetually awkward around their friends, especially when Eponine and Enjolras were together. Eponine had largely holed herself up because of it, much more willing to face her own demons than to face her friends.

Or at least, that's what she told herself.

In actuality, when she was so alone that she could think of nothing else, it was _he_ that was on her mind.

Unlike last time they hadn't been on speaking terms, he was hardly giving her the cold shoulder. No, she frequently caught him just _staring_ at her, the same pained, heart wrenching expression on his face.

Sometimes she would turn around in the kitchen, and feel his eyes on her, or he would stand close enough that she could feel the static between her arm and his.

As if she needed reminding of their situation.

One particular day, she had been talked into going down to the Musain – even though it was her day off – for dinner.

Everyone was there, even Gavroche.

After they had finished eating and were finishing their drinks, Enjolras stood up.

Eponine's heart caught in her throat. _Oh no_.

"I have an announcement, everyone," he said.

The group quieted, looking at him expectantly.

"I've been offered a job." He might as well have been reading off the weather.

Everyone, including Eponine, erupted into enthusiastic applause, shouting their congratulations.

He held up his hand to silence them.

"It's not quite what I want to be doing, but it's better money than what I'll get if I accept a position at my current firm, or one of the others that have been offered to me. The bad news, however, is that it's halfway across the country."

There were audible gasps and chattering. Eponine felt dread build up inside her, though she could hardly say why. Enjolras _loved_ this city; it was his home, his entire life. He had always wanted to stay here, as long as she had known him. And to throw away his ideals and dreams for a higher salary? Sure, it might not be a permanent thing – just a way to save some money and get some experience, perhaps – but it just so _wasn't _Enjolras.

"I've done a phone- and Skype interview. I have until the week after graduation to accept the position. If I do, I'll move out there, take the bar out there, and be there for at least the next five years or so."

A stunned silence followed his words.

Finally, Combeferre asked, "What are you going to do?"

Enjolras turned to Eponine, looking her squarely, challengingly, in the eyes, his blue ones seeming to spark with a fire she did not recognize. Everyone followed his gaze.

Then he announced, in a strong, even voice, "That's entirely up to Eponine."

* * *

Merci à tous!


	9. Chapter 9

Ohhhh my gosh, hi my lovelies, I am _infinitely sorry_ about keeping you all waiting like this! It's been almost two weeks, and I completely realize that after chapter 8, that was the worst place to go on a mini hiatus.

Please forgive me - as I believe I've mentioned, I'm a graduating senior - in like 2 and a half weeks! This is my last week of class, and _last_ week, there were so many things due in my classes that it was almost impossible to find time to write.

With that apology comes our final chapter in this story! Wow, it's unbelievable! If you all are mad at me, though, you can take comfort from the fact that this chapter is the longest one by more than a thousand words (which is saying something, because these are loooong chapters). And, although this is technically the end, there will be an epilogue that will hopefully be posted by the end of the week (and a deleted scene)!

As always, thank you for your patience, and for your reviews! My goodness, I can't believe that chapter 8 on its own got, like, 30 reviews. That's incredible, thank you all so much for your kind words and your love and support. I never could have dreamed that this story would get so popular.

Ok, ok, I'll shut up now. Check back in a few days for the epilogue, and _thank you all_ for being so incredible to me!

**Disclaimer: **Hugo? More like huge no... (ba dum chhh)

* * *

Eponine stared at Enjolras in shock. "What?" she asked.

"You heard me," he replied evenly, meeting her surprised gaze with challenging eyes.

A stunned silence had overtaken everyone at the table.

Finally, Combeferre reached up and put his hand on his friend's shoulder. "Enj–."

"'Ferre, seriously, this is up to Eponine."

_"Why?"_ she squeaked, suddenly incredibly frightened of him. Or perhaps she was just afraid of the answer.

"Because I _know_ you have feelings for me, too," he replied fiercely.

Eponine felt her cheeks heat up. Just a cursory glance around the table showed her _several_ people gaping openly between them.

"You're insane," she said, with a short, awkward laugh.

He glared at her. Of _course_ she would be trying to turn this into a joke. That was how she operated; rather than own up to something, rather than deal with it, she just makes jokes until the tension dissipates. But not this time.

"Epon–."

"Are you seriously going to leave your future, your _happiness_, this _massive fucking decision,_ to me?" she asked, cutting him off. She was still smiling, but it was humorless, and there was something rather fierce and angry in her eyes.

"Unlike _some_ people, I can't be content with just hopelessly, _pathetically_ loving someone for _six years_ who will never love me back," he retorted. She was glaring at him so intensely now he thought she might launch herself across the table to attack him.

He almost laughed when Marius, the only person who didn't know to what Enjolras was referring, hissed to Grantaire, "What's he talking about?"

Eponine turned a shade of red he had never before seen. She opened her mouth to take another shot at him, but before she could, he said, "I will not wait around here like you did for six years, failing to deal with my unrequited love. Either you own up to your feelings for me and act like an adult about it, or I will go somewhere else, so I can move on and get happy."

A ringing silence was left in the wake of this statement. Eponine's cheeks were burning as her smoldering gaze bore into him.

She stood up so suddenly that her chair fell over. She righted it, shoving it back towards the table, and stomped towards the door, snapping, "Come with me," at him. She didn't wait for his answer; she just strode out of the café with her head held high.

His friends were staring at him, but before they could start the barrage of questions, he ran off after her.

Eponine did not break her gait until the door to their apartment banged open. He followed her in, closing it behind him. She rounded on him.

"I think you and I need to get some things straight," she snapped. "So if you have something to say to me, now's your chance."

Enjolras opened his mouth to reply, but before he could, she started shouting.

"I can't believe you just gave me a _fucking_ ultimatum!"

"It was the only way I could think to get through to you," he replied calmly.

"What – so this is payback? You're going to ruin your life to send me a _message_?" she asked incredulously. Her hair was flying about uncontrollably, her arms were waving in the air, she was at her most wild.

"No, I just can't be around you if you don't have feelings for me, too. I can't do this forever, Eponine. I can't keep playing this game."

"It's not a _game_," she huffed at him.

He shook his head. "Prove it," he challenged.

She just looked at him.

"See? Why should I continue to let you drown me again and again for _this_?"

Eponine groaned exasperatedly. "I don't know _how_ to give you what you want, Enjolras!" she exclaimed, a hint of desperation in her voice.

He shrugged. "Figure it out, or I'm leaving."

Enjolras turned to walk away from her, but she caught up to him.

"But you're my best friend!" she exclaimed.

"Oh, grow up, Eponine," he snapped. "Stop being so goddamned selfish. I'm not going to just stay here and let you string me along until you get bored or find a new infatuation. I have tried and tried and tried to show you how I would treat you and to give you what you deserve and if you can't see it, then I'm not sticking around to pine after you like you did with Marius for six years. I have a life too, I have dreams, and they never included a woman. But then I met you, and then we started this, and suddenly all of that changed. Now I'm willing to accommodate you in my life plans, regardless of what I used to want."

"You're willing to _accommodate me in your life plans?"_ she repeated incredulously. "Oh, lordy, sign me up, Enj! If that isn't the most _romantic _thing I've ever heard – girls around the world will envy me for all the sweet _accommodating_ you do to fit me into your future."

Eponine's sarcasm angered him so much that thought he would have to remove himself from her presence. "That's not what I meant, and you know it," he retorted. "For fuck's sake, Eponine, you make such an _effort_ to push me away every time I try to get close to you. I love you, Ep, I _love_ you. And I desperately, desperately want you. I want to give you everything you've ever wanted, everything you deserve. So don't belittle me – I have changed so much, and it's all been for _you_. Don't blame me because you're too scared to let yourself feel and be a little happy for once!"

"I am _not_ scared!"

"Yeah, well, you keep saying it, and yet here we are! Every time we get close to starting something real, to actually giving it a go, you shut down. Sounds like you're running scared to me! Sounds like–."

But Eponine didn't get to hear what else it sounded like. She was too busy throwing herself at him, kissing him as though it were the last time and the world was ending, sweeping over him like a tidal wave so quickly that he forgot for a moment why he was so angry.

But then it came back to him, and he was shoving her back into her room, violently ripping her clothes off, slamming the door behind her. And the angry sea that was Eponine, this broken girl that he was _so_ _in love with_, she rose to meet him, hungrily trying to consume everything that he thought he had ever been, washing through him and tossing him about in her waves as though he were a toy.

They fell back on the bed in a tangle of limbs, fingers scratching and digging deep into skin, hair getting pulled in the struggle, passionate moans clouding their senses.

_"Look at me,"_ he hissed, and she tried, she really did, but _oh god it was so hard to keep her eyes open._ When she couldn't comply, he bit her lip, giving her a feral grin when she moaned into his mouth. She was his right now, totally and completely under his control for _once_. It was hot and heavy and passionate and angry and everything else he thought he had ever felt towards her, and she accepted it all, pulling it all into her as he moved, indulging her as she begged for more.

When it was over, he didn't cradle her against him like usual, didn't kiss her gently and touch her bare skin and run his hands tenderly through her hair. Instead, he sat up, pulled on his boxers, facing away from her. Eponine felt cold without his touch.

"I didn't mean for that to happen," Enjolras told her quietly, not turning around. The dying sunlight set his golden curls ablaze, and made her heart quicken. His back was covered in long, red scratches, as though she had dragged fire across him in countless long lines. She desperately wanted to trace those lines, to kiss them, to feel his lips on hers.

"At least it was fun," she teased gently. She knew she was walking a fine line with him, and as fun as angry sex was, she genuinely hated fighting with him. "I just – I don't know what you want from me, Enj," she confessed helplessly.

"I don't want anything _from_ you, Eponine. I just want _you_."

Eponine just scoffed. "I'm no good for you, Enjolras. We both know that. Look at what I come from – why would I want to risk ending up like my parents?"

He rounded on her. "Don't you ever try to compare yourself to them. You're a wonderful person, Eponine. You won't turn out like them."

"You don't know that," she whispered.

"Is _that_ what you're afraid of? Is that why you still keep part of yourself hidden away from me?"

She was quiet for a moment. "I'm afraid of you leaving," she told him honestly, though they both knew she was avoiding his question.

Enjolras seemed to understand that she had been pushed far enough. He was so good at reading her. So he sighed, and instead asked, "Do you understand why?"

Eponine nodded. "I can't believe you would let someone else make such a big decision for you," she remarked softly.

He slid back up to sit cross-legged next to her. She couldn't help putting a hand on his knee. "I don't _want_ to leave, you know."

She said nothing. She couldn't even look him in the eye.

"I just need you to give me a reason to stay, Ep. Something, _anything_, to let me know I'm not alone in this. Because I can't keep letting you break my heart." His voice broke as he said it.

And then he was gone.

* * *

The next few weeks were a mess of awkward encounters and sexual tension.

Neither Eponine nor Enjolras were entirely sure of how to act around each other, and absolutely none of their friends were sure of what to do about the situation at all.

Luckily for everyone, Enjolras was in the thick of his last semester of law school, and spent many late nights at the library or awake in the living room, writing papers, studying, or doing work for his internship.

Eponine was equally busy, working at the Musain several days a week, doing her own work for her classes, and trying to be both a sister and a mother to Gavroche.

He was a good kid, though, and even though they fought sometimes (as siblings do), he listened to her, mostly followed the rules she had set for him, and was doing well in school and staying out of trouble.

One evening, when Eponine was off and on a rare break from her studies, she cooked them all dinner. Gavroche was home first, of course, and she had ordered him to do his homework.

When he was done, he joined her in the kitchen to help her cook (she was making pizza). None of the boys had come home from work yet, and tonight was Enjolras' late class night, and Eponine was happy to get some bonding time with her brother.

He walked in without a shirt on, given that the weather had gotten so warm in the city (but not warm enough to rack up the electric bill due to air conditioning). She was, as always, shocked by the rough, angry scars that had been left behind as a reminder of the shooting.

He saw her staring at his skinny, pale frame, noticed the tears in her eyes, and hugged her with a patient sigh and a short laugh. He towered over her, these days.

"They're just scars, sis. I'm totally fine," he reminded her.

Eponine took a deep, calming breath, then wagged a floury finger at him. "If you ever almost die again, I'll kill you," she promised. He grinned.

When their pizza was done, Gavroche talked her into eating out on the fire escape. It was out of the window in his little room, and before he had moved in with them, it was hardly ever used. But Gav had always liked his open spaces, so he frequently went out and sat there to read or do homework or to write. The kid was a talented writer.

They ate in silence for a few minutes, watching and listening to the city life bustle about beneath and around them, before Gavroche asked, "So what's up with you and Enjolras? Is he still moving away?"

Eponine gave him a calculating stare. "Don't you have, like, girls to worry about and videogames to play, kid? Why are you worrying about my problems?"

Gavroche nudged her playfully with his elbow. "Oh, see, you can't shut down on me like you can with everyone else. I'm your brother, I _know_ you too well," he teased ominously. "You can't avoid my questions."

She just sighed resignedly. "It's complicated, Gav," she told him seriously.

"What's so complicated? He's in love with you, anyone can see that."

She glanced at him. "Can we not, please?"

"Come on, Ep, I know you like him too. Why don't you just tell him?"

"It's not that easy," she murmured.

"Sure it is," he insisted. "Look, Ep, all I know is that I've never seen you so happy. I know that you let him take care of you when I was in the hospital. You've _never_ let anyone do that before, you've always been so determined to do everything on your own, to take care of everyone else and deal with your own problems yourself. But then you let him break you down a little bit, and all of a sudden you're like a new person. I can see it in your face when you look at him that you want it, and we all know you want him. You raised me, sis, and our lives were _miserable_, and Enjolras is offering you happiness. Why even _chance_ losing that?" He said it all nonchalantly, through a mouthful of pizza, as though he were telling her about a videogame or a math test or a science project. But here he was, this kid that she was both sister and mother to, spouting wisdom as though he were rambling off a weather report.

Eponine raised her eyes, impressed by his words in spite of herself. "Jesus, kid, how old are you again?"

Gavroche grinned. "And the student becomes the teacher," he said dramatically, playfully nudging her shoulder with his own. "You may call me Miyagi, young grasshopper."

* * *

It was only a few weeks until Enjolras' graduation, and he was working so hard that he was hardly ever home. But one Friday evening, he came home at a decent hour for once, in time to watch the end of a game with his roommates, to have a few slices of pizza from the place down the street, and drink some beers.

A few hours later, Eponine was in bed, unable to sleep.

She had gotten used to Enjolras' presence, to sleeping wrapped up in his warmth every night, safe and calm and content and as much as she hated to admit it, she had not slept well since she had been back on her own.

After tossing and turning in vain for what seemed like hours, Eponine lost her patience with trying to sleep.

Moments later, she found herself in front of Enjolras' door, her hand frozen on the doorknob. The apartment was silent, and the streetlights shining through the window cast her shadow on the wall. She wondered if perhaps her shadow was standing in her way, trying to prevent her from going inside.

But she knew that a shadow could no more stop her from going to Enjolras than she could stop Marius from falling for Cosette all those years ago.

Enjolras rolled over when she walked into his room, staring at her with those striking blue eyes glinting in the light from outside.

"What's wrong?" he rasped.

"I can't sleep," she whispered, closing the door behind her.

He sighed, clearly a little exasperated, but did not order her out. Instead, he moved over a bit, allowing her to slip in beside him.

Eponine had to will her beating heart to slow; she was too afraid that he would be able to hear it pounding, to feel it against his chest. However, she was completely unable to prevent the wave of contentment that washed over her when he wrapped her tightly in his arms. She rested her head on his bare chest, closing her eyes and smiling as she relished the moment.

"I've missed you," she confessed.

"I've been busy," he replied. There was just the slightest edge to his voice when he spoke.

"I know."

They were silent for a long moment, just staring into the darkness, each just as unsure of what to say as the other.

"Do you hate me?" she finally asked.

"Quite the opposite," he sniffed, still being rather short with her, though she detected a slightly softer tone.

"You deserve better," she murmured into his chest, suddenly feeling the weight of their situation, of her actions, bearing down on her chest.

"And yet I chose you," he seriously replied, though she could hear the familiar teasing edge in his voice. But he was markedly more sober when he continued. "Ep, I don't _want_ to leave. I don't have to leave."

"Then don't," she pleaded.

Enjolras sighed again. "I've already explained this to you," he told her seriously, pulling away from their embrace a bit so he could look at her. "Every time I get a even a little bit _close_ to thinking about trying to move on from my feelings for you, we end up exactly like we are right now, and you sweep over me like a goddamn tidal wave and all of a sudden I'm drowning in you again. If you can't admit how you feel for me or can't reject me outright and stop doing things like this, no matter how much I like it, then I need to go away for a while to get over you."

Though his words were not unkind, they hurt her just as much as the thought of losing him did.

"I'm no good for you," Eponine whispered into his chest.

"You keep saying that, as though it's an actual argument," he remarked impatiently.

"I'm not," she insisted. "Enjolras, you have the entire world ahead of you. You're graduating at the very top of the class at an elite law school, and you have more job offers than I've had jobs. You have big plans, big dreams, and you can and you _will_ do big things. But I don't fit in with any of those plans, in any of those places you could potentially end up." She gave a short, derisive laugh. "I'm the girl the politician has a scandalous affair with, not the one he goes home to."

"Oh for fuck's sake, Eponine, that's the farthest thing from true and you know it. You're getting your shit together, you're a smart girl. I've been surrounded by those future trophy wives my entire life. They all come from old money and political dynasties, they all have the same taste in music and movies and books, they all look like they rolled around in a fucking Vineyard Vines catalogue. If I wanted one of them, that's where I would be. But I was never interested in any of them – in any women at all, as you know, until I met you."

"But you're meant for bigger things, Enj," she argued. "You're going to change the world for so many people. I'm not right for that. I'll only get in the way."

He snorted. "It was always my dream to help the people that needed it, to make their lives better because they couldn't find the strength or didn't have the resources to do it on their own. But then I started wanting to change your world, too."

Eponine was quiet for a long moment. They had settled back down, and she could feel his breath on her neck. A shiver went up her spine, and she wondered if he could feel the goosebumps that his fingers summoned as they gently stroked her skin. Her breathing quickened and she found herself halfway between annoyance and awe when she realized that he could have _such_ an affect on her just with his touch. "You should've stuck to your original plan," she whispered. Her hand was curled into a fist on his chest, her nails digging into her palm. God, this conversation was _painful_, and having him hold her this way was just confusing.

"You represent so much of what has gone wrong, of what this corrupt society has done to people. So my dream evolved, I vowed that I would do everything I possibly could, everything you would let me do, to make things different, better for you. And by then I had already been swept up by your tides, and I was hoping that soon you would feel the same. Then I would be able to help everyone else. You know, with you by my side," he finished a little lamely.

Enjolras seemed to be just a little embarrassed about admitting all of this. But after everything that they had been through together, after everything that had happened – well, they were well past secrets by now.

"What if you can't have both?" she asked quietly, trying to keep the despair from her voice. She had pulled herself up out of his embrace to look at him fully in the face, propped on her elbow. She was able to breath again when his breath stopped kissing her neck and his fingers were no longer ghosting along her skin.

"Why couldn't I?" he inquired.

There were so many emotions bubbling up in her chest – panic, hopelessness, lust, sadness – that she was no longer sure she would be able to stay in control. It was all becoming too much. Eponine struggled to keep her voice calm as she said, "Your life has been blessed, Enj. What if right now, you've reached a fork in the road, and fate will only let you take one way – the dreams you've always had, or me?"

"I would take the fork. That's what Yogi Berra always advised," he joked.

"Enjolras, I'm being serious. What if choosing me means that you never achieve your dreams? You may be fine with it now, but I would hate for you to wake up one day and resent me for being the reason that your life has been unfulfilling," she told him desperately.

"_Eponine_, my god, that's so far in the future it's not even _worth_ discussing. And it's all speculation, anyway." There was a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Don't patronize me! I'm not one of your lawyer people!" she snapped. "What happens if you can't change my life and also achieve you dream of changing the lives of the other miserable people out there?"

Enjolras was silent for a long moment, his blue eyes focused on the bed, before quietly responding. "What if I told you that you've become the entire foundation of my new dream?" His eyes found hers as he finished speaking

A wave of emotions that Eponine could not identify swept into her chest and her breath caught in her throat, followed by eyes pricked with tears. _What has he done to me?_ She shrugged his hand away angrily when he reached out to rub her shoulder. "No. I can't do this. I can't let you throw away everything you've worked towards for _me_."

"Eponine," he said patiently, "I'm not throwing everything away. I can do both. I can change your world and I can change other people's too."

She shook her head, suddenly feeling incredibly claustrophobic. Panic was rising. She took a deep breath, trying her hardest to swallow it down, along with the tears that threatened. "Oh, Enjolras, don't you get it? You already _have _changed my world. God knows I wouldn't have gone back to school without you. I'm getting my shit together, you helped me bring Gav here, you've changed _everything_ for me. But other people need that too. I think the only way that you can have both is to let go of me. Otherwise it's all just too good to be true, and something bad will happen down the road, I just _feel_ it."

"Bullshit," Enjolras snapped, suddenly angry. "You're running away. God _damnit_, you always do this, Eponine. I want you, why won't you just let me _have_ you? Why won't you let me love you?"

"Because I'm no good for you!" she exclaimed, and suddenly her voice was thick with the tears that she was no longer able to choke down. She was horrified when she realized they were already falling, hot and thick, down her cheeks. She tasted their salt in her dry mouth. "I'm broken, Enjolras, and no matter what you want or what I want, I'm not good enough for you. My life is shit, and you're the best thing in it, but if you stay with me, I will drag you down and you will drown in the worst of me. _That's_ what I mean when you can't have both. If you stick with me, you'll get caught up in the worst of all the shit that's going on up here," she gestured wildly at her head, "and your life will disintegrate just like mine!"

Enjolras was clearly taken aback, both by her words and by her tears.

"My heart is in _pieces_, Enjolras!" she gasped, openly crying now, not even trying to stop it anymore. "It's how I was born, it's how I was raised, it's like I'm fucking _defective_. I never learned how to love, not in the way that you want! I'm half a soul, half a fucking person, I'm miserable, I've got issues out of the ass, and you deserve so, so much more. I have nothing to give you, Enjolras, nothing to offer you, and–." She was crying too hard to finish what she was saying.

What was happening to her? She had cried to him about Gavroche, but that was absolutely an anomaly, an exception to the rule. She had never cried to anyone – least of all him – about such mundane feelings as these before.

Enjolras was sitting up as well by now, and tenderly reached out a hand, gently wiping at some of the tears under her eyes with his thumb. It hardly did any good, though, because once Eponine had started to cry, she had completely lost control. She could not stop. Part of it was because she was frustrated with him and with herself, but it mostly stemmed from the fact that he had never seen her this low before – no, this was something she saved for the very blackest nights when she was as alone as she could get.

He wrapped her tightly in his arms anyway, rocking her as she cried against his naked chest. When she had calmed a bit, he slipped his hand under her chin, stroking just below her lips with his thumb, tilting her head back to look at him. "You presume too much, _mademoiselle_," he teased.

Eponine just stared into his eyes despairingly, unable to even reward his quiet attempts at comfort with a watery smile.

"Maybe I'm just half a soul too," he told her, staring at his thumb as it felt her lip. "You know, math was never one of my strong suits, but if I'm not mistaken, two half souls equals one whole one. Maybe that means something."

Eponine's lips just parted in surprise at his supposition.

He leaned in, planting a tender, gentle kiss on her lips, his hand ghosting along her jaw as he moved it from her chin to anchor it much more firmly on her cheek and neck.

When Enjolras broke it apart, he whispered, "I love you," against her mouth, before lying down. He pulled her with him, and once again she was locked tight in his embrace, her fingers laced through his and her own arm wrapped tightly around his torso as her eyes began to close against the heat of his chest.

"Promise me you'll try to stay," she murmured, suddenly more tired than she had felt in weeks.

"Promise me you'll try to give me a reason," he countered, whispering it against the crown of her hair.

Her only reply as she dropped off to sleep was to squeeze his hand.

* * *

When Eponine woke the next morning, she was alone. She wasn't sure whether she was dismayed or pleased with the fact; she mostly just felt numb.

A piece of paper was on Enjolras' nightstand, she noticed, and she could see her name on it.

Sitting up, she snatched it, reading his beautiful script emotionlessly.

_Ep – _

_Went to the library to study for exams._

_See you tonight._

Eponine tried to choke down the resentment that swept through her from his cold note. Just a few months ago, he would've woken her before he left, just enough to kiss her tenderly and tell her where he was going.

Disgruntled, Eponine got up and left his room. She could hear voices in the kitchen, and followed them in.

Courfeyrac and Grantaire were there, Grantaire at the stove with a ridiculous hot pink apron on, and Courfeyrac at the counter, chopping vegetables.

Eponine could smell coffee, and followed her nose to the coffee pot, pouring a giant mug as her roommates noticed her presence.

"Good morning, sunshine," Grantaire said. "I'm making omelets."

She eased onto a stool next to Grantaire, stealing a slice of cheese, one hand tight around her steaming mug.

"Excellent. Don't burn them."

The boys grinned.

"Is Clé here?" she asked, turning to Courfeyrac as she carefully sipped her coffee, wincing as it slightly burned her tongue.

"In the shower," he replied, concentrating on evenly chopping up a green pepper. "Did you and Enjolras have a good talk last night?" he asked in a businesslike manner.

Eponine choked on her coffee, snapping her head to look at him, though he was too wrapped up in his vegetable chopping to notice. Grantaire was watching her with interest as he whisked a bowlful of eggs.

"You know I stayed in his room last night?"

"I was already up when he left for the library this morning. His face said it all."

Before Eponine could answer, Gavroche walked in. She felt a wave of relief at his impeccable timing. He pulled off his baseball cap, slipping it on backwards as he leant into the fridge, rooting around.

"What are you doing?" she asked, watching him carefully.

"Looking for my water bottle," he replied.

"No, idiot," she teased, "I mean where are you going?"

He straightened. He looked as though he had grown another inch overnight, and his shaggy blonde hair looked like it had grown two.

"To the skate park with Eric," he said, taking a swig from the bottle.

"Call if you're–."

"Going somewhere else. Otherwise, check in at five. Yeah, yeah, I know." He rolled his eyes, but grinned anyway, grabbing an apple and shouting his goodbyes as he headed for the door.

Courfeyrac was just beginning to chop up some pieces of ham. Eponine regarded him thoughtfully. "Courf," she said, a little tentatively.

"Hmm?"

"How – how did you know?"

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"About Clémence."

He looked at her then, clearly a little confused. "Um… well, we met at a thing–."

"No," she said, waving her hand dismissively. "How did you know she was different?"

Courfeyrac regarded her blankly. God, boys were _such_ idiots. "I don't follow."

Eponine sighed, but her curiosity outweighed her impatience. "Ok – let's be serious here. You were a man whore in college. And after. I think I've seen you go on about three second dates in all the time I've known you, and that's counting the two second dates you had with Madeleine."

"Definitely only two second dates," Grantaire cut in. "When Madeleine agreed to get back together with him, they only had one date, remember? She broke up with him again on the second." He was grinning deviously.

Courfeyrac glared at him.

"Boys!" snapped Eponine. _"Focus."_

Courfeyrac turned back towards her. "What's your question?" he asked.

She had to stop herself from rolling her eyes. Irritation was quickly bubbling up inside of her. Having serious conversations with these two – especially when they were together – was about as easy as giving a cat a bath. She ate another piece of cheese to calm herself.

"What made Clé so different?" she asked.

Courfeyrac gave her an appraising look for a moment, twisting his mouth as he though. Finally, he shrugged. "I don't know what it was, man. She was just… different."

"How? How did you suddenly know that was what you wanted?"

"I didn't," he told her with another shrug. "We went out on that first date and I brought her back. We had a lot of fun when we were out, more than I usually do when I take a girl out, and I remember thinking that maybe she would be more than a one night stand. Of course, I was thinking in terms of booty calls, or friends with benefits like you and Enjolras, but when we woke up the next morning she was just so... I don't know, so amazing, so fun. I didn't know what I wanted with her, I just knew that I wanted something. I wanted to be around her. And then a relationship happened."

"But how was she different? What made her better than Madeleine or the girls you hooked up with in college?"

Courfeyrac thought for another moment. "Well at the time, I loved Maddie a lot. But our timing was always off, and we were never as happy as we each could have and should have been. I wasn't interested in anything with anyone after Maddie because things had ended so badly and it was all much more hassle than it was worth. But then I woke up next to Clé and it wasn't awkward or annoying like with other girls. It reminded me a little bit of what it was like with Maddie, but with Clé, even though it was just our first morning together, it was already so much better than anything Maddie and I had ever done. I remember saying to myself, 'Self,' I said, 'this girl could be a game changer.' And then we took it one day at a time, and then she wasn't just _maybe_ a game changer, she actually was one."

Eponine opened her mouth to respond, but at that moment a beaming Clémence walked in, planting a tender kiss on her boyfriend's neck.

"I'm so touched," she murmured. "I reminded him of his ex-girlfriend! If that isn't the most _romantic _thing I've ever heard–."

Courfeyrac spun on the stool, pulling her into his arms before she could finish her teasing sentence and play fighting with her.

When their laughing subsided – Grantaire and Eponine had laughed with them, watching the couple fondly and sharing grins of their own – they turned back to Eponine. Clémence was still on Courfeyrac's lap, his arms wrapped around her.

"Is he still set on this ultimatum?" Clémence asked gently.

Eponine gave her a helpless look and just nodded.

"_Eponine_," the other woman admonished.

"I know, I know," Eponine said feebly.

"You have to tell him how you feel."

"I did. I told him how I feel about the whole situation."

"Wait, you told him you love him?" Grantaire asked, spinning around from the omelet he was cooking.

"No! No, we were talking about – well, it's hard to explain. Less about being in love and more about… us, I guess."

"That makes no sense," Courfeyrac said.

Eponine shrugged. Grantaire placed an omelet in front of her. She cut into it experimentally – it was filled with ham and cheese, just the way she liked it. She smiled at him gratefully.

"Don't worry about it," she said through a mouthful.

"Eponine, he is going to _leave_ if you don't own up to how you feel for him," Clémence reminded her seriously.

"I _know_, Clé, I know," she replied, setting down her fork. She picked up her coffee mug, gripping it tightly.

Clémence leaned forward. Suddenly Eponine was very uncomfortable. She held the coffee mug in front of her chest as though it were a shield. "Eponine, you _need_ to figure it out. I'm beginning to sound like a broken record, what with all the insisting that I do about your feelings for each other." She looked at Courfeyrac then, her eyes light with amusement. "Seriously, I've gone blue in the face insisting that they're in love, and still, Eponine doesn't seem to be able to wrap her head around it!"

Eponine just scoffed and took an indignant sip of coffee.

Clémence reached out to her then, prying a hand from the mug and squeezing it comfortingly. "Ep," she said kindly, "You need to think long and hard about this and come to terms with your feelings. He's begging you to give him a reason to stay, and we can all see how you feel about him."

"You can?" Eponine asked, looking around.

It was Grantaire's turn to smile kindly. "Eponine, we became friends right away at school. I've considered you one of my very best friends since we met. All that time, all those boys you blew through to get your kicks, and I've never seen you like this before. When you look at him – Jesus, it's like you grew up in a cave and are seeing the sun for the first time."

"Ok, Aristotle," she teased, but his words frightened her with their accuracy. Enjolras _had_ become like a sun in her life – a source of warmth, of a passionate heat, even, in a way, of sustenance.

"Plato, but good try," he retorted.

"You get all strung out when he's with you," Courfeyrac added. "You two disappear into this little world – when you aren't fighting, that is – and you like to think that we all don't notice because you try so hard to keep from falling away from the rest of the world, but we do. Then you get too wrapped up in each other to care, it's really quite disgusting–."

"Ok, ok, enough," she implored, holding up her hand.

They were all silent for a minute, Eponine staring into her coffee and ignoring the others as they stared at her.

Clémence was regarding her with a gaze that Eponine was sure was boring down into the depths of her soul. "Do you love him?" the psychiatrist-to-be asked suddenly, brusquely.

"No!" Eponine answered automatically, but then she faltered. "I – I mean – I don't know," she stuttered.

"Well. You need to make up your mind. Otherwise he's going to go. He will leave, and he won't want to talk to you all that much because he'll need some space. You'll hardly ever see him, except when he's home for holidays, and you'll grow apart. Then in a few years, you'll get your mail one day – maybe you'll be living with some other guy, maybe not – and it'll be an invitation to his wedding, to some other woman he met out there and made a life with. And you'll go and you'll see him and you'll have to live the rest of your life knowing that that woman could have been you."

"He insists that he's never even noticed other women, except for me." Even Eponine knew it was a weak argument.

"And after a year of basically getting sex whenever he wants it, you think he won't be able to find someone out there that he can tolerate enough to fulfill his needs?" Clémence countered harshly. When Eponine said nothing, just stared at her with wide, unsure eyes, she continued, though much gentler than before. "You may not regret it immediately, but someday you will. One day you'll wake up and realize that, in an effort to protect yourself or to save him or _whatever_ your reasons are, you let him slip away. And you will regret it every day for the rest of your life, because he is _everything_ you need. You two are perfect for each other, and we all know it. He knows it, obviously. I can tell that even you know it. But for whatever reason, you're holding back. But he's not going to keep chasing you forever, Eponine. You _will_ lose him if you don't come to terms with your feelings and own up to them, and you will never be able to forgive yourself for it."

Eponine was stunned, and Grantaire and Courfeyrac were pointedly avoiding her gaze. She didn't know how to reply. So she took a bite of her omelet.

"Just think about it, Ep," Clémence implored, sliding from Courfeyrac's lap and going to make more coffee.

The conversation eased into another topic, but Eponine was unable to involve herself. She had just woken up, and already she felt completely mentally exhausted.

Eponine really _had_ thought about it a lot, despite what Clémence seemed to think, but her ability to recognize her own feelings remained as muddled as ever.

It didn't matter that everyone kept telling her she was in love. She believed that they thought it, and she definitely knew that she had feelings for him somewhere, but love? She didn't even know how to tell.

* * *

Two weeks later, Eponine and her friends were seated on folding chairs on the quad in front of Enjolras' law school. It was a sunny day with a light breeze, neither too hot nor too cold for the spectators.

She loved these days, when a simple sundress did the trick, and it was still cool enough to bring along a cardigan and keep her hair down rather than knotting the tresses on top of her head to cool her neck.

The law graduates had promenaded out to their seats, a sea of black gowns and those ridiculous caps that she herself would hopefully be wearing in a few years at her own graduation.

They had been lucky to get seats that ran perpendicular to the stage and the sea of graduates, rather than the seats behind the future lawyers. They were about halfway between the stage and the last row of students, close enough to clearly see the speakers.

Enjolras had asked Eponine to save seats for his parents, which she had gladly done, chattering with his proud mother when they had arrived. She had met them on several occasions, and they were incredibly kind people. Whenever she was around them, she found herself wishing that they had been her parents, or at least that hers had been a little more like them.

Gavroche was sitting on her other side, with Azelma and Montparnasse next to him, and the other boys were in the two subsequent rows behind them.

When Enjolras got up to do his speech – he was the class-elected speaker, after all – his fan club roared.

He glanced at them as he came up to the podium, giving them that _look_, and causing them all to dissolve into giggles. Eponine shushed them all, though she was hardly able to contain herself. But as soon as Enjolras started to speak, they silenced.

As always, he was incredible. He commanded attention, speaking like a general to his troops, his eloquent words calling them into action to be the change the world needed, to help those and to rise above the status quo and to question the establishment and use everything they had learned these past three years to make things different, to make them better.

Eponine watched him as he spoke, passionately delivering his words. He took her breath away, standing up there in the sunlight, a statue sprung to life and living out the moments the artist had intended to immortalize. He was incandescent, sparkling and shining gold beneath the black cap and gown. It seemed as though he would catch fire – no, it seemed as though he _was_ fire. He was its master, and it conformed to him, fanning out as he gestured to his audience who were all at once his peers and his subordinates.

He was beautiful.

Eponine felt something stir in her chest. Could she really lose _this_? All this passion and drive and eloquence – he had offered it all to her. Other women would jump at the chance for what he wanted to give her, yet here she was, too insecure to accept.

Seeing him like this, ablaze before her… well, suddenly she could see exactly how she felt when she was with him. He so frequently likened her to water, to the ocean, talking about her currents and her waves and drowning in her, yet he filled her with the very fire that surrounded him now.

Losing that – well, when fire and water come together, there is nothing left but smoke. Together, they balanced one another out. But if he left, would there only be sad vapor left behind, the ghost of an indication of what once had been?

Eponine was afraid, but he knew that. He knew her fears, he knew her desires, what she loved and what she hated, what made her happy and what made her sad and what made her angry. He had seen her cry, he had seen her come undone, he had stitched her back together again.

_Two half-souls make one whole one_, he had said. Was he right? Was that what they were, one soul in two bodies, one made of water and the other of fire, bringing a sense of equilibrium to two lost spirits? He seemed to think so.

Enjolras loved her. He _loved_ her.

Suddenly an understanding of what that meant crashed over her, and Eponine was no longer sure that she was breathing. She couldn't see, but she could – her gaze was focused solely on him, on that golden Apollo, that myth come to life, the man who wanted to give her everything.

It did not mean that he would ask any more of her than what they already had, she realized. He wasn't asking for her to sign away her freedom, bound to him by blood on a devil's contract. He was asking for her to let him love her, to let him take care of her, and to love him in return. He knew what she was afraid of, and he was too good a soul to betray her to her fears. He wanted to help her fight the demons that had long ago learned to swim, to consume them in his fire and banish them from their parasitic lives in her mind forever.

Eponine was breathless. She became aware of Gavroche's hand on her arm; he was looking at her with concern. It didn't really process though, because Enjolras _loved_ her.

And she loved him.

She was sure of it now. In fact, she had never been so sure of anything. How had it taken her so long to see?

(Because she was Eponine, she was stubborn and willful and so frustratingly stuck in her ways. And she was afraid. It was scary.)

But none of it mattered, because she was burning inside with his fire right now. She loved him and he loved her and she no longer cared if that meant he wouldn't achieve his dreams, because they would be together and they could do _anything_. In fact, she would kick the ass of anyone or anything that even tried to stand in his way, because they were invincible. They were fire and water, the sun and the moon, and there was no stopping them.

Eponine was giddy, elated, waiting impatiently for this _stupid_ ceremony to end. All she wanted was to hold him, for him to hold her, to never let go again.

Finally, _finally_, the last of the students had walked across the stage and accepted their diplomas. They threw their caps into the air, cheering and shrieking and laughing and crying.

Eponine's friends hooted and hollered and streamed into the sea of black gowns to find her angel, her savior.

"Are you coming, Eponine?" Gavroche asked, staring at her as though she were crazy.

Eponine realized that she was sitting alone, that everyone else had gone, even his parents. She had been in a daze, thinking of his body and his heart and his mind, and hadn't noticed.

She stood, following him towards the familiar site that was her group of friends. They were chattering excitedly, clapping Enjolras on the back as he tightly hugged first his mother, then his father, then the others, occasionally stopping to chat with fellow graduates.

Gavroche ran ahead of her, hugging Enjolras. Eponine approached slowly, feeling unsteady on her feet. Seeing him right now, especially so happy, took her breath away.

As she came up on the group, he turned, and caught her eye. She froze, lost in his eyes for a moment. Then something in her brain snapped, and she felt herself moving, dodging Courfeyrac and Azelma, pushing Combeferre aside as he tried to get close to his friend.

Eponine launched herself into his arms, knocking him off balance, locking her arms around his neck, pulling him flush against her as tightly as she could, and kissing him. It was urgent, it was passionate, yet still, in a way, chaste. (They were in public, after all.)

She didn't care that they were surrounded by their friends. She didn't care that his parents were right there, that Gavroche and Azelma could see, that all of his law friends were around. She didn't care about the fact that she hated PDA and had always rejected monogamous relationships.

All that mattered was that he was kissing her, his arms tight around her waist. Everything else had fallen away, and it was just the two of them falling through all of time and space.

Neither was sure how long they had kissed, but when they surfaced for air, their other senses rushed back in so quickly they each almost lost their balance.

Enjolras was bent over, Eponine arched against him, as though they were in some sort of old, romantic movie.

He straightened, pulling her up with him, unwilling to let her go. She seemed equally unwilling, pressing her forehead and her nose against him.

They held the embrace silently for a long moment, trying to catch their breath, ignoring the catcalls and wolf whistles and whooping of their friends around them. Later, she would reflect that when they _had_ finally let go of one another (though their hands remained entwined for the majority of the night, through the graduation dinner they all went to and the party at the apartment afterwards), she had caught the eye of his parents and had never felt so embarrassed in her life. But right now, all that mattered was him.

_"Eponine…"_ Enjolras whispered, his chest heaving against hers.

She shook her head. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut for a moment, steeling herself, before opening them and planting another quick kiss on his lips.

Her fingers knotted in his hair as she gazed into those deep blue eyes – and he, lovingly, into her brown and gold ones – as she took a deep breath.

Eponine's heart was pounding – she had never been so afraid – but it didn't matter. Her trademark smirk quirked at her lips, and she nuzzled him lightly as she took a deep, preparatory breath.

"Enjolras…" she breathed. His hands knotted against her back, digging into her spine. It sent chills throughout her body, and goose bumps dotted her arms despite the warmth of the day. She smiled, kissing him again teasingly, then staring deep into his eyes.

_"I love you,"_ she whispered, loud enough for only his ears.

He broke into a huge smile, squeezing her even tighter, kissing her again and again and again.

Finally, Enjolras pulled away, and, smiling against her lips, whispered, _"I know."_

Eponine just smiled back.

* * *

I hope that was a satisfactory ending =)

Also, this chapter is dedicated to Inge, my biff (aka ThinksInWords or textsfromumbridge on tumblr). She's a bamf and most of this story wouldn't have happened without her. Also, I had to make this extra feelsy because she murders me with feels with her stupid writing all the time so if you all die you can blame her because this is sorta payback. But she deserved it for writing such perfection and cuteness and it kills me every time. Sorry not sorry.

Merci à tous, et à l'épilogue!


	10. Epilogue

Oh my gosh, I can't believe this is the last installment of this fic. Really, it feels so final - I'm graduating college in a week and a half, and now this is finished, and aahhhhhh!

Some thanks: first, to all of you wonderful people who have read this, have stuck by patiently as I put these characters through hell and heartbreak (sorry not sorry?), and have been even more patient between increasingly sporadic updates. Thank you to you amazing people who have left the kindest, most encouraging, most exciting reviews ever.

SO MUCH THANKS TO INGE. WITHOUT HER, THIS WOULD NEVER HAVE TURNED OUT THE WAY IT DID! I know you guys will miss this, but seriously, go find her on tumblr (textsfromumbridge - idk who she had to kill to get that url, btw, but it's incredible) or here on ffnet (ThinksInWords) and read her stuff. She's in the process of writing the most epic Enjonine fic ever called "My Best Friend's Wedding," which everyone needs to go read and review and love as much as I do.

Because of her awesomesauceness, this epilogue is officially being dedicated to Inge. Thank you for your help, my dear!

**Edit: **Thank you SO much to tumblr user jolsette, who made the brand new, beautiful cover image for Tides! I'm genuinely touched that someone thought this was good enough to make an edit. I can't even, thank you!

Come find me on tumblr! My url is thisislavieboheme, but I'm also in the process of creating a fandom-specific blog on tumblr (eponnjolras) that my IRL friends won't know about. That way, I can post my writing and my graphics and be more involved in the Enjonine/Les Mis/other fandoms I'm part of communities. Send me prompts there, I can't promise to be speedy, but I'll try! So come visit me on one or both!

THANK YOU ALL! I hope this epilogue gives you some closure. It was originally supposed to be much shorter than the other chapters, but that didn't work out - I think it's either the longest or second longest one so oops. At least you all get a super-long goodbye!

Remember - there's still a deleted scene! I'll probably post it in a week or so. Then it really, _really_ will all be over.

**Disclaimer: **Ok just stop asking

* * *

The sun was shining through the window, casting bright, hot rays directly across his eyes.

_Damnit_, Enjolras thought. He had forgotten to close the shades again. He sighed, rising to let them the rest of the way down, before glancing at the clock. It read 9:30.

He hated waking up too early on the weekends. Perhaps 9:30 wasn't terrible, but still. Just once, he would like to sleep uninterrupted.

Sliding back into bed, Enjolras was unable to help grinning at the sleeping form beside him.

Eponine was rolled on her stomach, the covers bunched around her hips, exposing her bare back. Her dark hair was splayed in every direction, and he wasn't sure whether she was facing him or not.

She was without a doubt the _weirdest_ sleeper in the world. She tossed and turned all night, whether she went to bed wrapped tightly in his arms or not, and usually ended up either completely tunneled under the covers (if it was cold out), or hopelessly tangled in them. She rarely managed to keep her head on the pillow either.

It had not started out like this, of course; when they had first started spending the night together, they usually stayed in each other's arms the whole night. But since they had moved in together – out of their separate bedrooms, out of their shared apartment, into a place that was solely _theirs_ – she seemingly had gotten even more comfortable. It showed in the way she slept, in the way she walked around on warm days in a sports bra and thin shorts, in the way she would attack him when he came home some nights in the living room or in the kitchen without ever having to worry about someone walking in on them.

Realizing that she was turned towards him, Enjolras smoothed back some of her hair, careful to do it gently enough that he did not wake her.

Sometimes he could not believe that it had been three years since they had gotten together officially. He often grinned when thinking of his graduation, how this small girl with the giant personality had shoved their friends aside to answer his ultimatum with her lips, proffering an unspoken one of her own, in which he knew she was promising to give him her heart so long as he never broke it.

He had done his best to hold it as close to him as he could. It was not always easy; Eponine was even more of a firecracker, it seemed, as his girlfriend – his first _ever_ girlfriend – but not in a demanding or needy way. It was hard to put into words, how sometimes she seemed angry over nothing, how many days Enjolras still woke feeling as though he were sleeping next to a stranger, how she often seemed to try to shut him out more than she ever had before they were together. Even now, his drowned soul had yet to reach the darkest depths of her, where the true monsters dwelt, where they seemed to be waiting to surface.

No, it was anything but easy being with her. She still seemed to have more down days than up ones, though he was happy to see that he could pull her out of it for the most part. That said, Eponine had been happier in the last three years than he could ever remember her being as long as he had known her.

Enjolras looked around their bedroom. They had only been in this apartment for five months or so, but it already felt more like home than anywhere else ever really had. It was because of her.

It had taken him a while to convince her to take this step, but a lot had changed since they had gotten together.

First, Enjolras passed the bar exam, just a few months after graduating. Despite all of his prestigious job offers around the city (and the country), he chose to stay on as a lawyer at the firm where he had interned. It was a great firm, though, with an incredible reputation, and he loved it.

Towards the end of the summer, just coming up on Marius and Cosette's first anniversary, in fact, Joly and Musichetta got engaged. They were married the following March.

That fall, Eponine officially won permanent custody of Gavroche. It had not been easy; they had to work very hard to prove that him living with a bunch of 20-somethings was better than him living at home (though there was no doubt that that was the case) or with a more structured foster family.

That spring, after Joly and Musichetta were married, Combeferre proposed to his college girlfriend, Camille, though they waited a year to finally have a wedding.

Right around Eponine and Enjolras' first anniversary together, several things happened. First, Feuilly and Bossuet, who had been dancing around each other for years (something that frustrated the group even more than Eponine and Enjolras had), finally got together. Then, Grantaire met a girl at the Musain, Natalie, who he had been with ever since – he had even gotten sober for her (though she helped a lot).

The fall and winter were quiet following those developments, save for Jehan, who moved in with his girlfriend, Claire, though the early spring saw Gavroche's acceptance into several universities. He decided to go to a school in the city, where he had received nearly a full ride, and would be in a pre-med program. He wanted to be a doctor, he announced, and help kids like himself, who got themselves in bad situations and needed medical attention – and, potentially, help. Enjolras could not ever remember seeing Eponine so proud, and he felt quite the same.

At their second anniversary, Azelma and Montparnasse got engaged. Enjolras had expected Eponine to be angry that her younger sister, who was now only 22, was getting married, but to his surprise, she was thrilled. She had even come to love Montparnasse – probably because of how loyal and supportive he had proved himself to be during the whole the Gavroche episode. They were married in front of Eponine, Gavroche, and Enjolras, as well as Montparnasse's parents and brother, at the town hall in the fall.

Also in the fall, Bahorel got himself a steady, serious girlfriend, which was pretty notable since he had always been such a ladies' man. His friends knew he must be serious about this girl, if he was willing to give up his life of bachelordom for her.

Late in the winter, Courfeyrac proposed to Clémence. Then, only two weeks later, Cosette announced that she and Marius were expecting their first child.

Their group of friends had now been through several showers, bachelor- and bachelorette parties, and weddings, but this was the first baby. Enjolras didn't think there had ever been so much excitement amongst his friends, who were simultaneously thrilled and almost as terrified as the parents-to-be.

Now, just a few weeks before Eponine's mid-May graduation, the four-month-along Cosette was beginning to get fairly big. She was a small woman, and her friends began to notice her growing belly by the beginning of April, but it took a while for her to actually start to get noticeably bigger to the rest of the world.

Eponine herself had changed a lot over the last three years, just as Enjolras was sure he had. She had worked her ass off, taking extra classes during all the available sessions – even in the summer – as well as waitressing at the Musain. She had been serious about working in art, and was getting both an art history and business degree. After a year and a half in school, during which she had almost enough credits to graduate (including her credits from her first year of college when they all had met), she got an internship at an art museum. At that point, he felt as though he rarely saw her, but he was incredibly proud of her hard work and her accomplishments. She finished up her art degree quite quickly, and was soon finished with her business degree, but had added an extra year on to her program to achieve her masters. Now, at 28 years old, she was graduating with two bachelor's degrees, a master's degree, and a full-time job offer at her beloved museum, working as the assistant cultural director.

"Hasn't anyone ever told you that it's really fucking creepy when you stare at someone while they sleep?" a groggy voice asked, pulling him from his reverie.

Enjolras grinned at his girlfriend, tenderly, affectionately brushing the hair off her face. He slid down off his own pillow so as to be even with her where she was laying on the mattress. His hand slid from the soft tresses spewed across the pillow to her back, where his fingers left behind a trail of goose bumps as he grazed her bare skin. It delighted him that even after all this time together, his touch could still elicit such a response from her.

Eponine was smiling at him sleepily, though he didn't miss the slight shiver that went down her spine as he touched her.

"I was just thinking," he replied, smirking.

"Oh yeah?" She was grinning as she reached out and smacked his ass over the covers. "What about?" she asked suggestively.

He shrugged against the bed. "Some girl," he said dismissively. But when he leaned forward to kiss her, she turned her head to the other side.

"Is there some _other_ bitch in your life?" she huffed, though he could hear the smile on her voice.

He pulled himself up on his elbows, and inched towards her, throwing an arm over her torso and slipping a hand between her skin and the mattress. Eponine hummed into the pillow, accepting Enjolras' lopsided kiss as he leaned over to find her mouth.

When he deepened the kiss, she rolled over beneath him, pushing her exposed chest into his and wrapping her arms around his back, pressing him into her.

Eponine moaned when he kissed her jaw, her neck, her collarbone, down to her breasts before working his way back up. When he nipped lightly at the vein she knew was protruding from her neck, she smacked him lightly on the head, delighting in how his blonde curls bounced.

"I have to go to work tomorrow, asshole," she told him breathily, doing her best to sound angry. "I can't go in with hickeys."

Enjolras didn't respond, only covered her mouth with his own – partially to taste her, partially to shut her up – before going back and playfully nipping at her again.

He could tell that she was about to chide him again, so he slid his hand down her torso, making her squirm as he successfully distracted her.

She was breathing heavily against him, but grinned as she said, "I knew I felt _something_ down there!" She leaned away from him, addressing his hips as she called, "Good morning, little 'Jolras!"

Enjolras pulled away from her neck suddenly, regarding her through narrowed eyes._ "Little?"_ he repeated indignantly. Then as if just processing the whole thing, he asked, "Wait, did you just nickname my penis?"

Eponine giggled, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him back in for a kiss.

"No, no!" he said, pulling away, pretending to be angry. She just grinned at him. "You can't nickname my penis, Ep. This is why we can't have nice things!"

She laughed loudly at that, then mockingly reminded, "I can have whatever I want."

He rolled away a bit, teasing her. "Can you?" he asked, grinning at her pout.

"No! No, I'm sorry, I take it back, I won't nickname your penis and its _not_ little, I promise, just come back!" she begged, grabbing his arm and trying to yank him towards her again.

Enjolras just sighed, pretending to be bored, rolling away from her on his side and yawning loudly. "Eh, I think I'm going back to sleep now."

He expected her to protest loudly, but instead she just scooted over to him, pressing her heat against him and snaking her arm over his waist. _"Are you?"_ she asked seductively, nipping his earlobe and kissing his neck.

He inhaled quickly, trying to keep from groaning. But it became too much for him entirely too quickly; he flipped over her, pinning her beneath him and kissing her with fervor. She rose to meet his challenge. The atmosphere between them had shifted drastically in only a few moments; it was vigorous now, urgent, hands groping and a sweaty sheen quickly covering them both.

Three years, and they had not lost any of the hunger, any of the passion. It was what made Enjolras sure that they had been made for each other. They fought like they made love like they laughed; everything they did together was just so _them_, so fun and lighthearted, but so enthusiastic and frenzied. It was hard to put into words, but he had, of course, never felt this way about anyone before, never been interested in anyone like this before. And although it was like pulling teeth, getting Eponine to admit anything, he could just _tell_ (because he knew her better than he knew himself) that she had never experienced anything like it either.

He knew that as long as they never lost their passion and their ardor, that they would last. In fact, he had never been so sure of anything in his life.

Enjolras' parents had an interesting relationship. They fought more often than not, they had been on the verge of divorce more times than he could count, yet somehow – even after he had moved out for college – they had stayed together. Part of the reason he had never been interested in anyone before was because he was so afraid of living a life like that. Of course, he loved them dearly, but he didn't want that. Couldn't handle it. He was so afraid of the affect their marriage had had on him – what they had taught him about relationships – that he had never wanted it. He didn't want to live like that, and what if he had ended up with a kid who would be raised the same way?

But then he had met Eponine; 10 years ago, she had kissed him in his dorm room. She had wormed her way into his heart in a way that no woman ever had before – or ever would. She was more than he had ever wanted, but suddenly it hadn't been about wanting her, especially after they became friends with benefits. It had become about _needing_ her.

And it was that feeling that made Enjolras sure that there had never been two people more right for each other. They had this strange dynamic, of course, possibly the weirdest relationship that he had ever seen out of any of his friends or acquaintances, but they needed each other, and he felt sure that that made all the difference.

So when they were finished, covered in one another's sweat, hair plastered to foreheads and necks and, in Eponine's case, shoulders, his heart was pounding as he whispered against her lips, "I love you."

It continued pounding, as always, until she murmured back, "I love _you_," and then still pounded afterwards, slowing as his core temperature returned to normal.

She was _his_.

* * *

After Eponine's last final, she met her friends in the Musain for dinner. It was delightful to finally, _finally_ be done with school – she often regretted dropping out, and although going back had been one of the best decisions she had ever made, it had been tough work and there were times when she wasn't sure she was doing the right thing. She had been lucky, in those times, to have Enjolras to talk her down.

He hadn't arrived yet – most of her friends already had, but as they were all coming straight from their jobs, it took some of them longer than others – but she was excited to see him, to see the look of pride and love he gave her when she told him she had killed her last final.

Enjolras was the last to arrive, and since they were all there and hungry, he had texted her his order (by this time, they all knew the menu by heart). It was just coming out as he arrived. Eponine's mouth was full of mozzarella stick when he strode in, but he kissed her anyway, tenderly stroking her head as he dropped into the open chair to her side.

It was all the PDA they partook in, tame kisses of greeting and goodbye. Many of their friends would trade a lot of kisses, some more passionate than others, but Eponine had always hated PDA, and Enjolras was hardly fonder of it.

When he was settled, Grantaire raised his beer – he had limited himself to one alcoholic drink a day, and was working on even cutting down from that (he had never truly been an alcoholic, though he was well on his way, but his girlfriend was able to put a stop to that) – toasting to Eponine's hard work and her graduation the following week.

At some point during the meal, Bahorel's girlfriend Anna, who was still rather new to their group, and who had been eagerly listening to Clémence discuss wedding plans with Musichetta and Cosette, caught sight of Eponine and Enjolras, who were whispering affectionately to each other.

"So when are you two getting married?" she asked them. The table grew silent, save for the snickers of Bahorel, Grantaire, Clémence, and Courfeyrac.

Eponine's cheeks had grown uncharacteristically red, juxtaposed with Enjolras' paled skin. They avoided looking at each other.

Bahorel took Anna's hand, and, still chuckling, said, "Babe, it took them more than a year to even start dating. See, Eponine here is a bit of a commitophobe, and Enjolras is too whipped to try to get her to step out of her comfort zone–."

"Excuse me," Enjolras interjected indignantly, "I'd like to point out that _I_ was the one to instigate being in an actual relationship. Remember that time I threatened to move away if Ep didn't agree to start officially dating me?" He turned to Anna, and explained, "We had been hooking up for over a year, and we had feelings for each other, but we both had our reasons for not taking things further, but then it kind of became ridiculous that we weren't together, so I made her make up her mind and we worked it out together."

Eponine looked uncomfortable, but he took her hand and squeezed it, then planted a kiss on it.

Anna looked a little sheepish. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to pry, I just know that you've been together for a few years–."

Enjolras stopped her by holding up his hand. "Not at all, Anna. It's a question we've been asked a lot." He affectionately nudged Eponine, who finally graced him with a shy smile. "We're getting there," he told her with a wink, taking her hand again.

Anna was still clearly a bit embarrassed, and was gazing apprehensively at Eponine, who did her best to give her a warm smile. Then she glared at Bahorel. "Commitophobe?" she asked him. "Really? I committed to sex with Enjolras right off the bat. It was him who needed the convincing."

Several of their friends snorted, and some of the tension dissipated.

Eponine shared a very private look with Enjolras as conversation picked up again. His arm snaked around the back of her chair, and his thumb gently rubbed the part of her arm that it touched. She reached out, almost unconsciously, and put her hand on his thigh, squeezing affectionately as she leaned into him.

It made her smile that, despite her loathing of gratuitous PDA, they could still share intimate moments in public. It made her smile even more when he snuck a light kiss on her cheek. She teasingly smacked his leg, but nuzzled her head into his neck anyway.

This wasn't the first time that marriage had come up, of course. They had eaten dinner at his parents' house just a few weeks ago, and she had overheard one of his cousins asking about when they would be getting engaged.

Enjolras' family was small – just his parents, an aunt and uncle, two cousins (one of whom was married with a baby), and two remaining grandparents. They had welcomed her in immediately. Of course, she had known his parents for years, but when the rest of his family met her, they were so shocked that Enjolras was dating anyone at all, let alone seriously, that they had immediately insisted on calling her their cousin and referring to her as anything from "the ltg" (long-term girlfriend), to "fiancée," and even, when alcohol was involved, "wifey." It was embarrassing, but she and Enjolras had gotten used to – or at least resigned themselves to – being considered as a unit, as a "we," and a "they," and a "them." And after a long while, Eponine found she had even liked it.

But recently, they had begun to ask more and more about the prospect of she and Enjolras getting married. The women in his family had pointedly talked about wedding plans around her (his female cousin was getting married in a few months), bringing up venues and gowns and cakes and flower arrangements whenever she was within earshot, and handing her magazine after magazine that catered to brides.

They had talked about it too, once the questions went from being teasing to semi-serious. Eponine, who was quite afraid of marriage herself and had never really wanted it before he came into her life, knew about his family and his parents' marriage and his fears of turning out the same way. She did her best, especially after the idea of them getting married had become a little more cemented and acceptable in her brain, to assure him that they would not turn out the same way, should they ever decide to take that step. But she could tell sometimes that he was thinking about it, just by the look he had on his face.

Sometimes, when they would be around his parents, he adopted this certain expression. It was hard to read, and she still was not entirely sure what it meant or even if he realized he was doing it, and she was too afraid to ask. It was some combination of apprehension, hurt, and fear, though even that didn't quite describe it. And sometimes, this same look would appear on his face when they were sitting together in silence. After some time, Eponine had learned that this expression indicated that he was thinking about marriage. He was often quite irritable with her and with others, too, when he was thinking about these things.

It had all scared her at first; his family, his parents, his own fears about his future, but she had resigned herself to it all months ago. When they moved in together, she accepted where this was headed. It was something that he had taught her, learning to take things in stride – good things, things that would make her happy – and to stop fighting them. She still struggled frequently with the thought of something as permanent as marriage, but whenever she got too scared, she tried to think of Enjolras, her best friend and the man that she loved. She taught herself to be less scared of a future with him because it was _him_, and they had their thing, whatever it was, that kept them together and kept them happy. She had always wanted to spend her life with him as her best friend anyway, but this would come with rings and a permanent roommate and tax breaks and sex whenever she wanted it. And, as much as the thought still amazed and frightened her, it would come with something she had never thought she would experience: love. True, unconditional, and, for them, passionate love.

Of course, Eponine knew that it was silly to think of being married to Enjolras like that, but when the fear and uncertainty overwhelmed her, it helped to think of it all in such black and white terms. And now, the thought of marrying him was almost pleasant, even if it still terrified her. Neither had a good model to work off of for how to build that new kind of relationship, but she told herself that it was better that way, that they know what _not_ to do, at least, so they can figure it out on their own.

* * *

Eponine walked across the stage when they called her name, beaming as she was handed her diploma with a series of firm handshakes. She could hear her friends hooting and hollering and shouting for her with pride, could see the sun glinting off Enjolras' golden hair.

She worried for a fraction of a second that she would fall down the stairs on her way back to her seat, but she made it, shooting a goofy grin in her fan club's direction. She was impatient for the ceremony to end – she had her diploma, she wanted to celebrate!

When the President of the university announced them graduated, Eponine tossed her cap into the air with the rest of the students, catching it easily as it came back down. She briefly hugged her friends and the people around her, before running through the crowds in search of her audience.

She saw Gavroche first, tall, lanky, and just as blonde as Enjolras. He pulled her into a bear hug, then the others surrounded her offering hugs and congratulations. Enjolras' parents and his cousins had come, as well, though he was nowhere to be found.

His mother was just pulling out of a hug when a hand tapped her on the shoulder. Eponine spun, and found herself face to face with Enjolras, who was holding a huge bouquet of bright flowers and wearing a glorious smile. He folded her into his arms, lifting her off her feet and spinning her so much her flats fell off, then he lowered her and kissed her sweetly. She accepted the flowers and his kiss with a smile, which widened when he hugged her again, murmuring, "I'm so proud of you," into her ear.

When he released her, she turned to her friends and his family, all of whom seemed to be gazing at them with odd expressions. Most were looking on with fond smiles, but there was _something_ about the way that a few of the boys were looking at them that she couldn't pinpoint. It made her uncomfortable though. Sure, she was against PDA, but couldn't they give her a break on her damn graduation day?

Later that night, everyone was packed into her and Enjolras' apartment. They had luckily moved only a few blocks away from their old building, and as this was their friends' "neighborhood," they were within walking distance of everyone else's apartments, as well as the Musain – where the takeout, of course, was from.

There was copious alcohol, too, and Eponine found herself being coaxed into several shots by Grantaire, who was sticking to his one-drink rule, but still poured himself several shots from his bottle of beer so she didn't feel alone. She ignored Enjolras' somewhat disapproving gaze in her direction. She only graduated once!

After her third shot of tequila, Courfeyrac, who had been acting weird around her all night, as though he had some sort of big secret that he was hiding from her, intervened, pressing some food into her hands and insisting that she stop drinking so heavily.

"You want to remember your graduation party!" he insisted.

Luckily, she had eaten so much that she was no more than tipsy, and an hour later when they were cutting her giant graduation cake, she was more or less sober.

Sober, and a little irritated (though still having fun). Everyone else was getting drunker and drunker, and besides wine, everyone was keeping her away from the alcohol. She reflected for a moment that this must be what pregnancy was like – though on a daily scale – and a wave of sympathy swept over her for Cosette, who seemed perfectly happy anyway.

She was mostly irritated because Enjolras had been acting weird around her for the past several days, and even though she had desperately wanted him glued to her side all night (capping off their celebration before bed with some congratulatory sex, of course), he had seemed to almost be avoiding her.

He would pop up at her side, offering a tender kiss on the lips or an affectionate one on her cheek, but would quickly run off, insisting that he had to play "host." Why he was so intent on taking care of their goofy friends _now_, especially when he had never given two shits before, was beyond her.

His parents left at 10:30. They were huddled close to him, clearly deep in conversation, so Eponine kept her distance. She hated to interrupt. When Enjolras caught her staring in her direction, he actually _flushed_, and stepped back from his parents. She walked up, gazing at him suspiciously, but smiling at his parents, hugging them and thanking them so much for being present at her graduation and party.

At 11, Eponine was feeling a little tipsy again, and was much happier for it. Combeferre had tried to take away her beer, but she had snapped that it was _her_ party and she could drink if she wanted to. Bahorel and Grantaire, at least, smirked at her obscure reference.

It was then that Enjolras found her. She was standing next to an open window, letting the breeze cool her warm cheeks.

His hand found her lower back, and even though she was a little annoyed with him and slightly tipsy, she leaned back into him. His voice was low, a little hoarse, as he whispered in her ear, "What do you say we get out of this madness for a while?"

Eponine turned to him, staring at him before turning her gaze on her friends, who were singing along with loud, bawdy songs on the karaoke machine Grantaire had insisted on bringing. She nodded gratefully, allowing him to slip his hand in hers as he led her out the door.

The cool night air felt heavenly against her warm face, and she happily sighed, leaning into Enjolras. He slipped his arm around her shoulders, just as she did around his hips, and they slowly made their way to the small park a few blocks from their building.

When they arrived, there was a blanket spread on the ground, a pillow and an extra blanket for warmth dumped unceremoniously on top. A bottle of champagne and two plastic glasses were lying there as well.

Eponine stared at the setup in surprise, then gently shoved Enjolras' shoulder. "You sneaky fuck!" she giggled. "No wonder you were being so damn secretive all night! I should've known you were up to something."

"Oh, you have no idea," he replied with a smirk, kissing her gently and fidgeting – _fidgeting!_ – with his hands.

She pulled away, gazing at him in slight confusion, before going to the blanket and starting to crouch down.

"Wait!" he cried, loud enough that it actually startled her.

Eponine stood. "Ok, what's going on? Why are you weird?" she asked suspiciously, straightening and facing him with crossed arms.

Enjolras took a deep breath, but looked up at the moon instead of answering. It was full, and seemed so close tonight. She had once remarked that if she was water, as he had insisted on several occasions, then _he_ was fire. Though mostly she just said that he was like the sun, like Apollo. Well, if he was the sun, he thought, she was the moon. They complimented one another, and did not the moon control the tides in the sea, just as the sun was a star burning with white-hot fire?

So it gave him confidence, to look at the moon, because there was so much of _her_ in its beautiful face.

Enjolras leaned in to give her another kiss, which she eagerly accepted despite his weirdness. Due to her preoccupation – and her closed eyes – she didn't notice him reach into his pocket.

He abruptly broke the kiss, and she felt her lips form into a pout. However, when she opened her eyes to insist that he come back, her lips dropped from the pout, and she found herself staring at him, open-mouthed with shock. Her mind went blank.

Enjolras was down on one knee in front of her.

"Wha–?"

"Eponine, I –." he murmured, his voice breaking with anxiety. It was so unlike him, she reflected somewhere in the back of her mind, to be anything but confident and self-assured. He was a natural orator, so eloquent when he was speaking to giant crowds. Yet here he was, kneeling before her, voice shaking with nerves and the hands that shook as they held – oh god, he was holding a box in front of her. It was open, it took her a moment to realize, and there was a simple, yet _beautiful_, diamond ring inside. Her mind was moving too sluggishly to process _any_ of this!

Enjolras cleared his throat. "Eponine," he began again, voice a little stronger now. She tore her eyes away from that black velvet box clutched in his quivering hands, and met his anxious gaze. "I love you. You're my best friend, Ep, and you've changed my life in so many more ways than you can ever understand. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, even if it sucks sometimes and even if you're depressed or I'm being a jackass, because you are the most fun, unique person I've ever known and I can't imagine a day of my life passing without you. I never imagined that love could happen to me, never wanted it, yet here you are standing in front of me, everything I never even knew I wanted until we met. So, will you marry me, Eponine?"

Eponine listened to his words in a daze, and wasn't sure if a half a moment or half a year passed before she felt her head, as if of its own accord, bobbing up and down. A smile broke across his face – relieved and beatific – as he pulled the ring out of the box (his hands were still shaking a bit) and, taking her left hand, slipped it onto her ring finger.

Enjolras kissed her hand before standing and kissing her enthusiastically. Eponine must have still in shock, because when he pulled away, his hand caressing her cheek he asked, "Are you ok?"

A bunch of vowel sounds – at least, that's what she thought it was – spilled from her mouth. She was feeling slightly panicked as the realization that she was engaged, fucking _engaged_, suddenly began blaring through her brain.

But when Enjolras moved his hand to her chin, gently lifting her gaze to his blue eyes, his face both tentative and concerned, the panic dissipated almost instantly. Somehow, she knew it would all be fine.

Her face broke into a hesitant smile as the feeling returned to her limbs, and she heard herself giggling uncontrollably as Enjolras, seemingly relieved at her smile, swept her into his arms, hugging her tightly and kissing her passionately.

They fell onto the blanket in a state of utter bliss, and after a while – neither was sure of how much time passed – they broke into the champagne, unable to stop smiling and laughing and kissing, lighted by the pale silver glow of the full moon.

* * *

Even though it was nearly a year, they waited until the following April to get married.

To Eponine's delight, the day was bright, warm, and sunny.

They were married outside, in one of the city's beautiful parks, beneath a large oak tree whose limbs had been decorated with ribbons and strings of colorful flowers. Unlike Cosette and Marius' wedding, or that of Courfeyrac and Clémence or Joly and Musichetta or so many of the others who had gotten married over the last few years, their wedding was small: just their friends and their wives or dates, Azelma and Montparnasse, Gavroche and his pretty redheaded girlfriend, and Enjolras' small family – his parents, cousins, aunt and uncle, and his surviving grandmother and grandfather.

Everyone sat in folding chairs outside, and bright little bouquets were placed strategically along the aisle and around their small area of the park.

Eponine was attended by Cosette, Musichetta, Clémence, and Azelma, her maid of honor. They wore dresses in varying shades of purple, and doted on the very nervous bride. Cosette did her makeup, light and natural, emphasizing the brown and gold of her eyes and her natural beauty. Clémence and Musichetta styled her hair into loose curls, pulling some of them away in a rather bohemian way from her face. Instead of a veil, they tucked a headband in between the pieces they had pulled back from her face; it was delicate, reminiscent of a flower crown, and was made of small, fake daisies.

Her dress was simple – long, chiffon, and flowing. It was empire-waisted, breezy, and strapless. The only jewelry Eponine wore was the anchor necklace her groom-to-be had given her for Christmas a few years before.

Then it was time.

Musichetta brought Eponine a shot of tequila – for nerves and for luck – and she and Clémence grasped her hands as they walked toward the wedding. Cosette walked in front, carrying Eponine's and her own colorful bouquets, and Azelma spread out the dress behind her older sister.

Cosette went first, walking down to gentle music played by a few guitarists who were friends of Grantaire's. Musichetta, then Clémence followed. Azelma escorted her sister along, stopping just before they came around the bend to the small ceremony.

She turned to the bride, smoothing her sister's dark hair back tenderly. "You nervous, sis?"

Eponine just stared at her with wide, somewhat terrified eyes. Azelma just giggled and kissed her sister's cheek. "You're going to be fine. It's not as scary as it seems."

"It seems pretty scary," Eponine breathed out.

"Do you want me to go with you?" she asked.

Eponine just nodded, her mind going blank with panic. Was this a mistake? A lot of marriages ended badly, and what she had with Enjolras was so much more than she ever thought she would get out of life. Was marrying him risking their relationship? They were in love, of course, as much as she still hated to say it aloud, but he was first and foremost her best friend. Getting married was a mistake, and it would ruin them.

Her sister, unaware of Eponine's increasingly colder feet, smiled supportively at her.

Clémence was just reaching the end of the aisle when Azelma took Eponine's arm, looping it through hers. She must have noticed that Eponine's hands were shaking, so she laced their fingers together. Eponine's palms were clammy with nerves, and when Azelma took her hand, she found herself squeezing it tightly.

Her heart was pounding in her chest, but she felt her legs moving beneath her as they walked towards the crowd. Enjolras was standing facing the officiator, but Combeferre, his best man, Courfeyrac, Grantaire, and Gavroche, his groomsmen, grinned when they saw her.

The guests stood as she and Azelma approached the aisle, and she realized that she was gripping both her sister's hand and the bouquet for dear life.

She kept her eyes on what she could see of Enjolras as they approached, her heart pounding in her chest and her ears. She could hardly hear the music.

She saw Combeferre lean towards Enjolras and whisper something with a smile as they approached the aisle, and he turned.

The look he gave her almost made her heart stop. His eyes were shining with nervousness and excitement, and he was looking at her with wonder.

As soon as her eyes found his, Eponine felt her nerves almost completely dissipate. She felt a shaky smile form on her face, one that was mirrored on his, and she knew that everything would be all right. It only took seeing that beautiful, chiseled face of his, so full of anticipation and excitement and love and even a little trepidation, to know that she was doing the right thing.

Suddenly, Eponine was excited.

She couldn't take her eyes off him as she and Azelma slowly approached – a little too slowly for her taste, actually, as she suddenly felt like running to him and leaping into his arms. He looked very dapper – they all did, dressed casually in khaki pants and different colored shirts that were rolled partway up their forearms or to their elbows, light waistcoats and dark bowties around their necks. Enjolras, of course, looked the best, with his dark red tie pulled loose and the top few buttons of his shirt undone (she had argued with him to button it the whole way up, but he had argued adamantly that he didn't like tight things up in his neck business). She found she liked seeing the hollow at his neck, though, rather than having it covered with a stupid shirt.

After what seemed like forever, Azelma delivered her to the handsome young man, who replaced Azelma's hand with his own cool one. Azelma took Eponine's bouquet and kissed her on the cheek, then retreated to where the other bridesmaids were standing.

Eponine remembered very little of the ceremony itself; it was all a blur as the officiator talked. Then she and Enjolras were repeating their vows to one another, and slipping on simple rings with shaking fingers. And suddenly she heard the officiator say, "Enjolras, you may kiss your bride."

Her heart skipped as Enjolras turned to her with a goofy smile, placing a hand on her cheek and planting a loving kiss on her waiting lips. She felt her heart beating in her ears and her breathing become shallow as he gathered her in his arms, hugging her tightly.

When they broke apart, Eponine became aware of her and Enjolras' family and friends cheering loudly, and they were suddenly walking down the aisle, tightly gripping one another's hands, "All You Need Is Love" being played on the guitars as they receded.

They went to the limo they had rented, flying inside and collapsing in each other's arms, laughing and kissing.

Eponine was unsure how long they were there before the Gavroche came and fetched them to take pictures, and a short while later they crowded into the limo together, going to take some photos around the city.

A few hours later saw the bridal party arriving at the restaurant they had rented for the reception. It was on the top floor of an old building in the city. The inside was exposed brick, with a few long tables set up with a buffet and their small cake, and five round tables, each with three small and colorful bouquets set in mason jars, for the guests.

The bar (Eponine had insisted on having an open bar) was copper, and the band was set up next to it. There was a terrace that was covered by an arbor, lovely-smelling wisteria clinging to the wood, woven in with lights and paper lanterns and jars with little candles in them. The doors to the terrace were open – it was serving as the dance floor later on in the night, and the band was set up in one of the wide doorways so their music could be heard both inside and out.

As Eponine and Enjolras walked inside, everyone stood and began cheering. They were both starving by that point – having been mostly unable to stomach any food the whole day – so dinner happened first.

Afterwards, they shared their first dance together to the band's cover of "Crystal" by Stevie Nicks. Eponine couldn't help but remark to Enjolras as they danced about how much the band's female singer actually sounded like Stevie, even though the song had been changed from it's original key.

Then suddenly, it was over and they were playing "As Time Goes By" while she danced with Gavroche and Enjolras with his mother, then she was dancing with Enjolras' dad – _her_ dad, now – and Enjolras danced with Azelma.

Then everyone was out on the dance floor as the music became more upbeat, and the party really picked up, especially once her crazy friends joined her.

Before they got too mussed up, the photographer talked Eponine into a few really funny pictures at the beautiful copper bar – the first had her standing and her bridesmaids sitting on either side, and they took a picture that made it look like the girls were knocking back the beers and chugging their contents. Then, Enjolras lifted her to the bar, and she was given a shot glass and a half-full bottle of Jack as the boys all collapsed in the chairs, on the bar, and even on the floor around them, looking as though she had out-drank them all. It was absolutely hilarious, and just so reminiscent of her and Enjolras and her friends.

Then they were smushing cake in each other's faces, and dancing some more – they were, of course, the center of attention, but they were also the life of the party, dancing harder and having more fun than anyone.

And then it was suddenly over, she and Enjolras were in the limo and then in front of their apartment building, on each other before they even made it into the elevator.

They did not sleep much that night, despite the fact that they would be spending the following night on an uncomfortable plane as they flew to Paris (Enjolras' parents had paid for a month and a half-long trip around Europe for their honeymoon as a wedding gift).

No, they were much too wrapped up in each another. Eponine, in spite of herself, could never remember being so blissfully happy as she and Enjolras clung together throughout the night, kissing urgently, too full of energy and happiness to even think about sleeping.

She was certain she didn't deserve it, didn't deserve _him_, but he had found her and picked her and changed everything about her. He had taught her how to be happy and how to move on from her unfortunate past and, most importantly, how to love. Eponine owed him everything, and even though she was sure she would never feel like she actually deserved him – that she was either just _really_ lucky, or he was just _really_ stupid – she knew he was the best thing that would ever happen to her.

* * *

"Auntie Ep!" a tiny voice called.

Eponine strode out of the small office that she had turned into a library and office, and caught a little strawberry-blonde child in her arms.

"Hi, Fantine!" she exclaimed, kissing the 7-year-old on the cheek.

Cosette strode in behind her eldest daughter, and Eponine could hear Marius struggling in the doorway with the others – two boys, Jean and Samuel, who were 5 and 3, and little Ange, who was just about 19 months.

She and her friends were all around 35 (a few were older, a few younger) now, and Cosette and Marius had four children – and Cosette was pregnant with her fifth, and, she insisted, her last.

Eponine didn't know how she did it. Three was enough for her and Enjolras – often too much.

They were together for three years before Eponine finally got pregnant. They wanted to wait so that they could enjoy their life together, and although it was a little bit of surprise when she found herself missing a period and hunching over the toilet bowl in the mornings, she had begun to want it to happen soon, and so had Enjolras.

Gabriel, named after Enjolras' father, was born that November, and neither Eponine nor Enjolras could ever remember feeling so in awe or so terrified. They were afraid of breaking the small child, of failing him, though their friends – most of whom had children, by now – insisted they would be fine (and hey, at least they had a lot of support and a _lot_ of babysitters).

Gabe had just turned four, and he was a precocious, argumentative, and smart child. She shouldn't have expected anything less to come from her and Enjolras, but sometimes it still surprised and frustrated her how much like the two of them – especially stubborn Enjolras – he could be. He had Eponine's dark hair and olivey complexion, but his father's bright blue eyes and curls.

Then, two years ago, Eponine found herself pregnant again. This time, and sometimes she _still_ wanted to kill Enjolras for this, she was pregnant with twins.

Sebastian was born first, then Marie, late in September. These two were even blonder than Enjolras, and even now as toddlers had unruly curls sprouting every which way, eyes that were impossibly blue, and pale complexions.

They were just as stubborn and loud as their older brother, and, as they were now learning more and more words, seemed to have picked up on the argumentative side as well.

Enjolras strolled in from the kitchen, with Marie hanging from his neck, Bass from his arm, and Gabe wrapped around his leg. Eponine couldn't help but crack up at the sight of him and whipped out her phone to take a picture rather than trying to help her poor husband.

He flashed her that smile of his, the one that still made her heart speed up and her stomach flutter, and planted a tender kiss on her lips as she took Sebastian, a mama's boy through and through, from his father.

It still surprised her sometimes how good Enjolras was at being a dad. For someone who had been so uninterested in any of the things he had come to have over the last several years, he was amazing at it. The perfect playmate, but still firm when it was necessary, and so, so loving.

He was nothing like his father. Of that, she was sure.

In fact, their marriage was nothing like what he had always illustrated his parents' to be. They fought, of course, but even when they were so angry that they couldn't be in the same room, she found that she still had fun. That said, they really didn't fight very much.

They also still loved to have sex. On three separate occasions now, a kid had walked in when they were in one another's thralls; Enjolras always got so flustered and panicked and embarrassed – he could be _so_ overprotective sometimes – and Eponine found his discomfort entirely too funny to deal with her kids herself on these occasions, watching as Enjolras found his boxers and walked around, wincing from not being able to fully act on his desire, as he took the interrupting child back to bed.

She hoped that didn't make her a bad mother, but the way he would always come back and admonish her about being more careful next time and how none of it was _funny_ only made her laugh more, and he would get back into bed in a huff and pretend to be angry until she rolled back over to him and, still laughing, did her best to make him feel better.

As annoying as her kids could be – mostly because they seemed to have gotten a very exaggerated combination of hers and Enjolras' most frustrating traits – she loved them dearly. They amazed her each day, and taught her so much about the world, about Enjolras, and about herself.

It wasn't always easy, but she couldn't imagine anything else. She loved coming home from the museum each day to relieve the babysitter, loved when Mr. Junior-Law-Partner-Enjolras walked in, loved when he kissed her passionately, even if it was in front of the kids.

She wanted them to know that their parents loved each other very much, and loved them even more.

Just then, Sebastian squirmed out of her arms, following Gabe as he ran to Aunt Cosette and Uncle Marius and their brood. Marie followed as quickly as her chubby little legs would allow and grabbed Cosette's hand. The pregnant woman, who was absently rubbing her swelled belly, let the toddler lead her into the apartment's foyer, where Eponine could hear Clémence and Courfeyrac arriving, and what sounded like Bahorel or Feuilly, and the chatter of several others – adult and children alike. They were celebrating Gabe's fourth birthday, which had been the past Wednesday.

Eponine moved to follow her kids into the foyer to greet her friends, but Enjolras caught her hand. She spun back towards him slowly, into his waiting arms. He was smiling at her through hooded eyes – the smile that he gave her when it was just the two of them, the one that cheered her when she was depressed, calmed her when she was upset, and reminded her just how much he loved her when she was having doubts.

He put up with a lot from her, even after all these years, but he never seemed to get any more tired of trying to help her than he had when they had first started sleeping together, first started falling for each other.

Eponine's insides warmed, and she kissed him, smiling against his lips, eagerly opening her mouth to him, pressing her body tightly against his.

A throat cleared behind them, and Enjolras reluctantly pulled away, grinning at her before looking over her shoulder.

His smile widened, and Eponine turned to see Grantaire.

"Will you two stop making out? There are impressionable children around, and it's just fucking _gross_."

"Impressionable children, and you drop the f-bomb?" Eponine challenged with a laugh.

Grantaire shrugged and walked back towards the crowd that was spilling into their living room.

Eponine turned back to Enjolras, and she was sure her expression mirrored his own. He bent to kiss her lightly one more time, and Eponine was certain that she had never been so happy.

A crashing sound in the foyer, followed by the cries of someone's child – she wasn't sure if it was one of hers and Enj's or if it was one of her friends' – broke them apart. Enjolras grinned at her, and Ep sighed, rolling her eyes.

"Fuckin' children," she muttered, flashing that trademark smirk at him.

Enjolras laughed, slipping his hand into hers as they went to go see about all the commotion.

_Fin_.

* * *

=D

I hope that was happy and fluffy enough for you... I tried to give them as unangsty and happy an ending as I realistically could.

Ps - here is Eponine's dress, if anyone wants to see the inspiration!  
jcrew wedding/Wedding_Bride/gowns/PRDOVR~

See you all one last time for the deleted scene!


	11. Deleted Scene

Alright... this is it, this is the last thing I will ever be posting for Tides!

Again, so many thanks to everyone for everything. I never thought that people would be so enthusiastic and emotionally involved in this interpretation of these characters and this plot and ugh thank you all so much and sorry if you cried.

Also, one more HUGE thanks to tumblr user Jolsette for making this incredible cover for this silly little story. I mean it when I say that it's one of the nicest things anyone has ever done for me. Thank you!

So this deleted scene is from Chapter 6, right after the infamous smut scene. I was having serious writer's block, and this was the first thing that came from the writer's block. I ended up really liking the scene, but not where it would have taken the fic, and I think the replacement scene fit much better with this Eponine and Enjolras, their relationship, and the direction that I wanted to take the plot. So I'm glad I didn't end up using it, but it was too cute to keep to myself

* * *

When they emerged from her bedroom, lightly wrapped in clothes, Courfeyrac was still up watching a movie on TV. But he must have been asleep because he did not even seem to notice them.

They took a shower together before running back to Eponine's room. Enjolras helped her changed the sheets, agreeing that he definitely did _not_ want to sleep in their sex.

When they were settled back into the bed, his head nestled on her chest, Enjolras asked, "Why did you get so pissed at R? When I suggested that you move in with me or I with you, you laughed."

Eponine, who was absently playing with his blonde curls, shrugged against him. "Well, first of all, it's you. You can say that to me because you're fucking me. R is not, obviously. Secondly, you were trying to cheer me up. I knew it was just a joke."

He propped himself up on one elbow and curiously inquired, "What if I wasn't joking? What if I was being perfectly serious when I asked you that?"

She just regarded him incredulously for a moment or two before giggling and lightly yanking a curl. "Stop that," she said.

Enjolras sat the whole way up then, leaving her hand clutching the air where his head had been just a moment before. It dropped unceremoniously. She looked a little surprised, her smile falling and replaced by a curious expression.

"Eponine," he said, "I'm being perfectly serious."

Her brow knitted together as she stared at him, seeming rather confused. For once, she appeared to be at a loss for words.

He waited patiently, until she finally, cautiously, told him, "Enjolras, I need my own space." She said it lightly, a playful smile on her face, but he could see that it was strained. She was trying to avoid this becoming a serious discussion.

"Eponine, you haven't slept alone since Gavroche went to the hospital. And before the wedding, you almost always spent at least half the night in my room, or I in yours. He could have my room if you want to keep your space, but he needs a place to sleep and there's almost always an open bed around here."

Eponine just gaped at him for a moment, looking around the room as she searched for words. "I'm not sure that's such a good idea," she said. "Don't you think that someone coming to investigate our situation would find that… unsavory? I want my brother to live here with us, and I can't imagine that a social worker would be too impressed by the fact that you gave up your room to him because you moved in with me."

Enjolras didn't respond right away, but when he did, his words almost knocked her out. "We could tell them that we've been dating for the past eight months," he suggested quietly, avoiding her gaze.

"But we haven't been," she reminded him. Then she coolly added, "And remember that two-month stretch where you wouldn't look at me, let alone talk to me?"

"Oh come on, Eponine. We did everything together. You said yourself that everyone thought we were secretly dating. And since Gavroche's accident, I've basically been your boyfriend."

"I didn't ask you to be!" she exclaimed fiercely.

"No," he agreed, "But you needed me. You needed me, and you know it."

She knew that he wasn't gloating, and she knew he was right. Without him, well, Eponine wasn't sure how she would have kept it together.

"I – I don't know," she murmured, growing increasingly uneasy with this conversation.

"Well, if you're that uncomfortable with the idea, maybe consider it as a temporary situation? We could tell the social worker that we're together and that I've given Gavroche my bedroom until we can get the den ready for him." Then he added, grumbling, "And if you hate the idea that much, I can give him my bedroom and say I'm sleeping on the couch. Then we don't even have to pretend to be dating."

Eponine could hear the slightest bitter edge in his voice, and suddenly felt a little guilty.

"If we did this," she said cautiously, "The social worker would accept it? I mean, we aren't married, I wouldn't want us presenting ourselves as being in a relationship to prevent me from getting full custody."

"We'll just have to sell it. Are you forgetting that I'm in my last year of law school? I've been reading up on custody situations. As long as we emphasize how responsible we are, how we can provide Gavroche with stable support, make sure he gets to school and does well and gets the care he needs, they aren't going to be too concerned that we're in a relationship. And what we have going for us is that you, his sister, are going back to school, I'm a law student in my third year at an elite law school, Courfeyrac has his masters and is working on his architecture apprenticeship so he can take his licensing exams, and R, even with his drinking problems, is an engineer. So Gav will be around four very school-minded adults, who have at least some of their shit together and who work very hard in school and at their jobs. We're all good influences on him, and you've said yourself that we've been role models to him for a while. All we have to do is explain that, and downplay our personal lives. We'll make sure that all the alcohol his hidden away in R's room, we'll make sure Clémence clears out for a few days, we'll clean the place and make it perfect for a 16-year-old kid who needs some guidance. It'll be fine, and you need to stop worrying. You'll get custody of him, Ep. We'll make sure of it."

Eponine was silent for a long moment as she took in everything he said. Finally, in a very small voice, she looked up into his eyes and asked, "And if we do this, what's to keep it from becoming a real relationship?"

The question kind of shocked Enjolras. "Well – would it be so bad if it did? I mean, we've basically reached that point. All we would be doing is adding a label to what's already there."

She wasn't looking at him, and her jaw was jutting out, the way it always did when something made her uncomfortable. "Relationships ruin everything, Enjolras. You put a label on it and it's like dropping a drama bomb. Things get complicated and messy."

"Oh please, Ep," he scoffed, grinning at her. "It's been that way the whole time."

He was relieved when the corner of her mouth twitched. At least this conversation wasn't making her mad. The Eponine of a few months ago would have been in a rage by now and would have stormed out and ignored him for the next several days.

"Enjolras," she seemed to almost be pleading. "Hasn't this gotten complicated enough? We're just friends, that's all this is. That's all it's ever been."

He inched up closer to her face, gently brushing some hair away. Her lips parted expectantly, and she was staring at his lips, just as he was staring at hers. "Come on, Eponine," he murmured, running his fingers through the hair above her ear. "Do you _really_ believe that?"

Her eyes snapped up to his in surprise, but closed almost immediately when he kissed her. It was not a messy kiss, nor a particularly long one, but he hoped it conveyed to her how he felt.

When he pulled away, she looked a little perplexed, but didn't say anything further.

"I like you, Eponine," he confessed. "But I think you already knew that." He wanted to tell her how he really felt, how much stronger his feelings for her were, but he knew he had to take things slow with her. It had taken him a long time to fully understand this, but she was so afraid of heights, and telling her he loved her would be asking her to fall. He knew she didn't trust him enough to take that leap, that she wasn't yet certain that he'd be there to catch her at the bottom. "And besides, I think I'd probably be a pretty good boyfriend. You know me, Ep. You know who I am. And you know what the sex is like. You know _exactly _what to expect, because it'll pretty much be the same as now."

A smirk brightened up her face. "Enj, are you asking me to be your fake girlfriend?" she teased.

He smiled back, though it was much softer than hers. He stroked her cheek with this thumb, and murmured a quiet confession that caused her smile to fade in light surprise. "I'm not sure I could pretend, Eponine." He wasn't looking at her.

When she said nothing, and the silence became too much for him to bear, he said, "Just think about it, ok? You know that I have feelings for you. And I know that you're scared –."

"I am _not_ scared," she told him forcefully.

He grinned. Of course she wasn't. Her life was cold and dark, but she was unafraid. Unafraid of everything – except being in love.

"Then be my girlfriend, Ep. Not my pretend girlfriend, my _real_ girlfriend."

She knew he was teasing her, but that somewhere beneath that he was also being quite serious. And to Eponine's surprise, her own heart rate quickened and butterflies were churning in her stomach. With _excitement_, she realized. She _wanted_ this. Enjolras _liked_ her, really liked her, just as Clémence had said, just as she herself had known somewhere deep down.

They hadn't been "just friends" for a while. She knew it. And recently, her thoughts were quicker to turn towards Enjolras over anyone else – especially Marius.

"Fine," she snapped, pretending that it was a burdensome thing.

But when he laughed and kissed her enthusiastically, smiling against her mouth, she couldn't help but smile and laugh, too.

* * *

And that, my friends, is officially the last of Tides.

One last time, thank you all _so much_. Really, from the bottom of my heart, thank you.

P.S. For some Tides-esque songs, check out "Too Far Gone" by Russell Crowe and Alan Doyle (there's a few videos on youtube of Sam Barks singing it with them!) and, of course, "Crystal" by Stevie Nicks.

I love you all, see you next time!

3 Mary


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